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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571429">Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddisonAddek/pseuds/AddisonAddek'>AddisonAddek</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grey's Anatomy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Cheesy, Child Neglect, Confused Derek, Curiosity, Dinner Date, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploring, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gen, Graphic Sex, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek gods, Hand Jobs, Happy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, In Love with my Best Friend, Insecure Derek, M/M, Masturbation, Meredith Grey is just mentioned, Mutual Masturbation, Nothing but shameless smut, Nudity, Passive Aggressive, Phone Sex, Secret Crush, Sex, Smut, Spanking, Straight Derek, Straight Mark, Teen Derek Shepherd, Teen Mark Sloan, Teen Romance, Teenagers, They almost go all the way, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Young Derek, Young Love, cocky Mark Sloan, experimenting, inexperienced derek, young Mark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:01:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddisonAddek/pseuds/AddisonAddek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I mean, shame on Addison and all that, but he's Mark, Derek. What did you expect? He's just Mark. And who hasn't gone there once or twice, right?”<br/>“What'd you say?”<br/>“Oh, come on. Everybody sleeps with Mark. It's practically a rite of passage, Derek.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>Rite of passage, you say, Nancy?</p><p>Set in the summer of 1984, Derek Shepherd takes a ‘rite of passage’ with Mark Sloan, his best friend and the boy he has a secret crush on. </p><p>They kiss, they cuddle and explore each other. In the literal sense. They’re happy for once in their lives and it’s because they have each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Shepherd/Mark Sloan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Crushes, Video Games and the Rite of Passage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek has a crush on Mark. Mark invites him over to his house. And what happens is a new beginning to their friendship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"><em><strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning </strong> </em> </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>1</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> Crushes, Video Games, and the Rite of Passage </strong>
</p><hr/><p>Derek picks up the telephone, nearly drops it when he sees Mark's number on the caller ID. He picks up the receiver to answer and says, in a lightly quavering voice, "Hello?"</p><p>"Hey, Derek. What's up?"</p><p>Derek sits up on his bed, runs a hand through his unruly curls. "Nothing. You?"</p><p>"Well, nothing. Is this a good time?"</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, what?"</p><p>He can practically hear Mark's easy smile. "Would you like to come over?"</p><p>Derek's breath catches. Part of him wants to scream out, <em>Yes! A thousand times, yes!</em> Part of him wants to hide away, avoid any chance to stumble, to fumble, to disappoint. He licks his lips and answers, "Sure."</p><p>"Great. When'd you like to come over?"</p><p>Derek checks the time, measures out the hours he'll have before his mother leave work, pick up Amy from ballet, and head home. "Twenty? Is that too soon?"</p><p>"Nope. That's perfect."</p><p>Derek nods out of habit. "Cool. I uh," he looks around his room, "I could bring over my Nintendo or something or you —"</p><p>"No, it's fine. Bring it. See you in a bit."</p><p>Derek's heart gives a little leap. "Yeah. Okay. See you soon."</p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><hr/><p>Derek loads up one of his favourite games, a shooter that he sometimes plays with his band mates, but mostly plays in single-player mode.</p><p>Mark is surprisingly good at the game, for a beginner, racking up kills with little help and only rarely making mistakes. But when Derek asks if he wants to play yet another round, he shakes his head.</p><p>"Nah, it’s boring," he admits.</p><p>"Oh, uh ... okay," Derek says, apologetically. "I have other games, or …"</p><p>Mark turns to him, fixing him with an intense, searching gaze. "We should do something else."</p><p>"Like what?" he asks, heart pounding.</p><p>"What do <em>you</em> want to do, Derek?" A sudden sharpness in those eyes, like the teeth of a tiger.</p><p>He pauses, heart hammering as he licks his lips, settling for safety. "I dunno."</p><p>Mark's eyes bore into him. "I think you <em>do</em> know. And I think I know."</p><p>Derek pulls away a little. "If you think you know so much, what do you think …" he trips on his own words, trying again. "What do you think I want to do?"</p><p>Mark gives a little half-smile, as if to say, I thought ‘<em>you'd never ask’</em>. "I think you want to kiss me, Derek, and more than that."</p><p>He blanches, caught off-guard; Mark has seen right through him and he now feels completely naked. More than naked — flayed, actually. "Wh — what?" he stammers. "No, I don't …"</p><p>And then Mark's mouth is on his. Soft and warm, and tasting of a complex sweetness that reminds him of the drinks of red wine he sometimes sneaks from his mother's bottles, but this — he is far finer and far more intoxicating.</p><p>He jerks back. "What the hell, man?" he snaps, back to pretending. But his erection signals the truth.</p><p>Thankfully, Mark's eyes never dart downwards. But by the he looks at him, he knows that he knows. Somehow, he knows. "Derek," he says, patient, "You know exactly what the hell. I see the way you've been looking at me. Come here," he commands.</p><p>Derek cannot help but obey.</p><p>He leans forward and closes his eyes, feels the warm tickle of Mark's breath on his cheek, feels his lips brush the corner of his mouth, feels the deep, wanting ache in his groin. He feels another warm exhalation at his ear.</p><p>"This is what <em>you</em> want," Mark states, kisses his earlobe so gently, so very gently that he barely even feels it.</p><p>He sucks in a breath, nodding, "This is what <em>I</em> want," he agrees.</p><p>Mark's kiss lingers. His lips quest further, sucking and playing. His tongue darts out and strokes the space behind Derek's ear, eliciting moans out of him — much to his own surprise.</p><p>He feels like he’s on fire with the urge to touch himself, but he does not dare move until Mark tells him to. But his tongue continues to tease and taunt, flicking and darting in a way that makes him quiver.</p><p>Suddenly, Mark’s hand caresses his groin and Derek jumps a little, "Wait,” his hand closes over Mark's wrist. "I'm not, um," he stammers, "I'm not, y'know ... gay."</p><p>Mark sits back, shrugging. "Neither am I."</p><p>Derek stares at him like he’s speaking another language. "Then, why are you doing this?"</p><p>Mark's eyes have gone dark but remains steady. "Because I want to," he says simply, "Don't you?"</p><p>His heart hammers, sending the pulse in his throat jumping. "Uh ... I mean …" He can't answer that, so he shifts the subject instead. "You ... have you done this before?"</p><p>"Many times," he says.</p><p>It must be what goes on behind closed doors in the locker room after football practice. He's not in the team, just band, but he's heard rumours and was too afraid and embarrassed to ask Mark if the rumours were really true, if he participated in <em>that</em>.</p><p>Derek's brows come together. "But you said you're not gay."</p><p>"Derek," Mark says, patient, "You don't have to be gay to get off with another man. To have sex with one, even. Being attracted to another man does not make you gay."</p><p>"So, what does it make <em>me</em>?" He flinches, corrects himself, "You, I mean. You. One. What does it make a guy if he, y'know ... fucks another guy?"</p><p>Mark shrugs again. "It could make him many things; it could mean many things." Before Derek can interject again, he goes on, "It's not brain surgery, Derek. Sure, some of the guys who '<em>participated</em>' were interested only in other guys. But not all of us are."</p><p>"Then, why do it?" he asks.</p><p>"Why do it with a woman?" Mark counters. "For love, for companionship, for the fun of it." He looks up at him, then. "For some, it is a simple need for human touch. For comfort." Leaning back, lounging, "It isn't all sex," he explains. "Sometimes a guy just want to be held." His mouth pulls into a wicked grin that shows off his very sharp canines, "And sometimes we just want a good fuck."</p><p>Derek blushes, but he cannot look away. Mark's eyes have him pinned in place. "But," he says, still unable to comprehend. He blinks, finally tears himself away from his gaze. "What about now? Isn't this a little …?"</p><p>
  <em>Gay?</em>
</p><p>Mark tilts his head back, sandy hair falling away from his face. "You're getting hung up on labels," he says. "Why not just let it be what it is?"</p><p>Derek hesitates, licking his lips. "And ... so ... what <span class="u">is</span> it?"</p><p>Mark takes a breath, in through his nose and then slowly out. "You," he answers simply, "Me."</p><p>He shakes his head. "That's it? Just ... <em>us</em>?"</p><p>Mark leans forward, offers his graceful hand to him. "Just us. Me and my best friend." His hand stays steady, even as Derek lets it remain, raised and empty. "Are you attracted to me, Derek?" he asks.</p><p>He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out except a breathy squeaking sound.</p><p>Mark's posture does not soften, but his tone does. "I'm attracted to you. I find you quite <em>beautiful</em>." His eyes rove down to his still-outstretched hand, then up to Derek's face. "Are you attracted to me?" he asks again.</p><p>Derek breathes, pausing to think before whispering, "Yes."</p><p>Mark ducks his head, so his gaze can make contact with his downturned eyes. "So," he says. "Would you like to get off with me?"</p><p>Derek lets out a shuddering breath. He cannot manage another <em>yes</em>, cannot be so frighteningly honest again, so so soon. He cannot bring himself to say anything. But Mark waits patiently while his breathing becomes tight in his chest and his hand trembles as it reaches out, grasping Mark's.</p><p>He smiles.</p><p>"What do I …?" Derek asks.</p><p>Mark keeps hold of his hand, gives it a squeeze. "Just sit there," he instructs. "Close your eyes if you like."</p><p>Derek squeezes his eyes shut, grips his hand, waiting while Mark’s free hand snakes up his thigh, grazes his erection as he reaches for the front of his jeans.</p><p>His heart pounds in his chest, driving his breath faster, all the while Mark undoes his jeans, holds the waistband with his hand and draws the zipper down with his teeth. Derek’s head drops back as he moans again, his brows draw together as Mark’s hand dips into his shorts and strokes all down the length of him and he bites down on another moan.</p><p>"Do you like this?" he asks.</p><p>Derek nods, the frantic motion bouncing his curls against his shoulders.</p><p>"Tell me you like it," Mark says.</p><p>"I ... I like it," he pants.</p><p>Mark’s free hand continues to stroke Derek, slowly teasing it up and out of his shorts. "Would you like me to do something more?"</p><p>"I ... yeah. Yes."</p><p>"What’d you like me to do?"</p><p>His eyes snap open, and he looks down at him. "Anything. Anything, please!"</p><p>Mark’s now dark eyes glitter as he gives a wicked smile. "Would you like me to suck your cock?" he asks.</p><p>Derek nods again.</p><p>"Ask me," Mark commands.</p><p>"Please," he moans. "Would you please suck my cock?”</p><p>Mark nods, dips his head down, pressing his lips to the tip of him, almost like a kiss, then slowly, slowly, sucks the head into his mouth.</p><p>Derek makes a high-pitched little noise, trembles with the effort of holding himself back. The warm wetness of Mark’s mouth, the velvet of his tongue swirling against the head of his cock, is almost too much.</p><p>Mark begins to work the shaft, pulling Derek deeper into his mouth, rubbing his tongue up and down the length, gulping him down until his lips reach the very base of Derek’s cock. He sinks back on the bed, propping himself on his elbows, his breath heaving deep in his belly.</p><p>It’s then Mark’s head begin to bob up and down, causing him to cry out. His hand spasms in Mark’s grip, and he shifts his hand to lace their fingers together. Derek hangs on, his other hand tangling in the bedsheets. His hips are beginning to buck, pushing himself deeper into Mark’s mouth, while Mark’s free hand slides around to cup his ass, encouraging his thrusts.</p><p>Derek’s heaving breaths turns into helpless moaning as he loses himself in the waves of pleasure rolling over his body, in the deep, aching pulse in his cock. He loses all sense of time; it seems a second, and an eternity, when the pulse reaches a fever pitch, and he finally lets go, back arching, muscles straining as he comes into Mark’s mouth.</p><p>He swallows, runs his tongue around the head of his one more time, and then lets him slip from his mouth. Their hands finally part.</p><p>Derek sinks onto the bed with a long, satisfied groan. He drowses for a few moments, warm and content. Then, he feels the mattress dip, first on one side of his body and then on the other. He opens his eyes to find Mark straddling him. His heart gives a sudden thump, and he scrambles to sit up. Mark grins and places a hand against his chest and pushes him back lightly.</p><p>"Wha — what are you ...?" Derek fumbles.</p><p>"Your turn," Mark answers.</p><p>"Uh," he says.</p><p>Mark rubs his chest. "Don't worry," he murmurs, "You’ll be good at this."</p><p>Derek flushes, panicked. "I don't ... I've never …"</p><p>"Relax," he soothes, unbuttoning his pants.</p><p>He takes a deep breath as instructed, lets it out. "What do I do?" he asks, timid.</p><p>He takes Derek's hand again, guides it forward. His heart pounds as he explores the firm bulge of Mark’s groin and Mark sighs in response, smiling. "That's very good, Derek," he says. "I like that."</p><p>Derek then slips his trembling hand into his pants, paws at the fabric he finds inside. Mark reaches in and tugs down his shorts, lets himself spring into Derek’s hand.</p><p>He jumps a little, flushes crimson and looks down at Mark’s cock, then up at his face. He begins to stroke him almost experimentally and his eyelids flutter, and he turns his face up to the ceiling as though basking in a shaft of sunlight.</p><p>Derek’s slow, steady motion becomes a little firmer, more confident at Mark reaction to him.</p><p>"Good," he confirms, "Keep going."</p><p>He, himself, begins to harden again and he keeps up his pace, watches a warm flush begin to creep up Mark’s neck and into his cheeks. He pulses in his hand, seeming to grow harder with every stroke and responds in kind.</p><p>Mark shivers. "Now," he says, "open your mouth."</p><p>He obeys and parts his lips, drops his jaws low and closes his eyes.</p><p>Mark scoots forward, them, gently pulls Derek’s hand away from him and slip into his mouth.</p><p>Derek holds painfully still as Mark slides across his tongue, breathing hard through his nose.</p><p>"Relax," Mark says again, "I'm not going down your throat."</p><p>He tries to relax his jaw muscles, lets his tongue go soft. He flicks his eyes up at Mark, questioning, finds himself trapped by Mark’s keen gaze and the ghost of a whimper escapes from him.</p><p>Mark reaches down and cups his cheek, strokes it with his thumb. "Let's begin," he says.</p><p>He swallows around Mark, moves his tongue just a little, trying out a few strokes against the underside of the shaft.</p><p>"Yeah," he encourages. "Yes, Derek. Good."</p><p>He laps at him more eagerly, feels himself rising.</p><p>"Good," he says again.</p><p>And so Derek, more bolder now, begins to bob his head, taking it slow at first. He hears Mark’s breath begin to come in sharp little pants, and bobs faster, matching the rhythm of his breathing.</p><p>"Mmm," Mark thrums, reaching down as his fingers run through his curls and lets his hand linger on the back of his head.</p><p>He pauses.</p><p>"Don't stop," Mark whispers, "You're doing great."</p><p>He sucks hard on Mark, drawing a gasp and then a fluttering exhalation from him and he begins moving his head again, and Mark nods his approval.</p><p>"Keep going," he urges. "Keep going."</p><p>Derek redoubles his efforts, sucking as he bobs his head, moaning against Mark. He gropes his way around his leg and grips his own cock, begins pumping away frantically.</p><p>Mark leans forward, bracing his palms flat on the wall. "Yes," he hisses. "Like that."</p><p>Sweat begins to trickle down his face and he breathes like a bellows, nostrils flaring as he works Mark and his own.</p><p>Mark gasps again, shivering. "Derek," he moans, "oh, fuck, Derek, yes."</p><p>His own belly clenches tight with the effort of holding his orgasm back, but then Mark back arches, and Derek's mouth fills with tingling, salty liquid warmth, and he lets go; his cum splatters up the back of Mark's shirt.</p><p>Mark sags, the motion pulling his cock from his mouth. And he lies there for a moment, mouth full of cum, eyes darting up to Mark's face.</p><p>He rolls off of Derek and onto the bed. "You don't have to swallow," he says. "I won't be offended."</p><p>Derek fights the hitching in his throat, closes his eyes, and swallows. The warmth dances down into his belly and settles there briefly before fading away. He turns his head to find Mark propped up on his elbows, gazing serenely back.</p><p>"That was great," Mark says. "Did you enjoy it?"</p><p>He nods, his breath still coming too fast to speak.</p><p>Mark sits up and begins to unbutton his shirt.</p><p>"Oh, shit," Derek pants, "Your shirt."</p><p>Mark chuckles. "It‘ll wash out. Don't worry." He cocks his head. "Would you like to take a shower?"</p><p>"Uh," Derek says, "I ... I think I'll just wash up in the sink."</p><p>Mark reaches beneath the bed and pulls out a packet of wipes. "Here," he offers them to Derek. "If you'd like to clean up a little bit beforehand."</p><p>He sits up. "What?"</p><p>Mark stands, stretches, slips out of his pants and saying matter-of-factly, "Your dick is covered in cum. You don't want to smear that all over the inside of your pants and then walk down the hall to wash."</p><p>"Oh. Um." he picks up the package and takes a few wipes to mop at his crotch, then his mouth and hands.</p><p>Mark slips out of his shirt and plucks a wipe from the package. He rubs at the splotches on his shirt, ridding it of the worst of the mess. Then, plucks another wipe and dabs at the corners of his mouth, as though he had just finished an exquisite meal before running the wipe gracefully over his groin. He glides to the wastebasket and drops the wipes in, then to the door.</p><p>"Are — aren't you going to put some clothes on?" he asks.</p><p>Mark looks over his shoulder. "Why? There's no one here but us."</p><p>"Right," Derek mumbles. "But still, what if —"</p><p>"You worry too much, Derek," Mark says, slipping out the door and heading for the shower.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Not-Exactly-Sex, a Special Friend, and the Quiet Mad Type</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek is confused about what happened the other day. Mark invites him over to talk. Will another Rite of Passage ensue?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p>
  <b>2</b>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Not-Exactly-Sex, a Special Friend, and the Quiet Mad Type</strong>
  </p>
</div><hr/><p>
  <em>Is everything all right?</em>
</p><p>Mark’s words before he left his house the other day makes Derek wonder. Makes him question himself. <em>Is everything all right, after what happened?</em></p><p>
  <em>Has he lost his virginity? Does it count?</em>
</p><p>He flushes hot at the memory, begins to harden and then deflates, feeling embarrassed without understanding why.</p><p>He takes a tepid shower. Not quite cold, but close.</p><p>It's only been a day since he and Mark sucked each other off and part of him is terrified someone will find out; part of him wants to shout it from the rooftops.</p><p>If his mother knew, his Catholic devote mother ... he banishes the thought from his mind, concentrates on getting dressed, focusing on each action and minute detail. The physical feeling of fabric against his skin, the colour of each piece of clothing, the scent of clean laundry and the lingering smell of body wash. But then the thought intrudes — <em>what would it be like to have Mark come up to him now, press his nose to the hollow of his neck and smell his freshly-showered skin?</em></p><p>He shivers.</p><p>
  <em>What has Mark done to him?</em>
</p><p>Derek scoops up his Walkman from the bed, pockets it along with his wallet and keys, and heads out.</p><hr/><p>At the animal shelter<em> (one that he volunteers at for the summer)</em>, he goes through the motions, completing each task on autopilot. But his mind wanders back to Mark over and over again no matter how hard he tries to keep busy. He keeps his Walkman, that Mark had gifted him, in his pocket as he listens to music, feels it like a lead weight, insistent. His hand strays to his pocket repeatedly, and a heavy sense of disappointment washes over him every time he does.</p><p>"You okay?"</p><p>The question snaps Derek out of the fog of his thoughts and feelings. "What?"</p><p>Mrs. Dandridge, the volunteer coordinator who supervises his shifts, gives him a motherly smile. "You seem like you're a million miles away today. Are you okay?"</p><p>"Oh," he stops sweeping, then, "Yeah, I just ... gotta start thinking about college applications," he lies. "It's a lot of pressure."</p><p>Mrs. Dandridge nods. "I know what you mean. My son’s going through the same thing. It's a shame all the pressure they put on you. Such a young age to be deciding so much."</p><p>Derek manages a lopsided smile. "Yeah. Whole future, you've gotta lock it down and make a choice about what you're gonna do for the rest of your life."</p><p>She chuckles. "Well, most people change careers a few times during their lifetime. I mean, look at me — I used to be a bank teller." Her eyes twinkle. "But here I am now, doing something I truly love."</p><p>"That's really good," he says, his mind already starting to drift again.</p><p>Mrs. Dandridge gives his shoulder an affectionate pat. "You'll find something you love," she assures him. "And you're smart. You'll be successful at whatever you decide to do."</p><p>"Yeah," he answers, focuses back on her long enough to give a sincere, "Thanks, Mrs. Dandridge."</p><p>She rolls her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you," another smile, "call me Ellen."</p><p>"Thank you, Ellen," he says.</p><p>"That's better." She looks around him to the section of floor he's finished sweeping. "Looks like you're almost done."</p><p>Derek checks his watch. "Right. I'll finish this up and then I've gotta get going."</p><p>Mrs. Dandridge nods, turning to go back to her own tasks. "Sure thing. And Derek? Don't worry yourself too much."</p><p>He returns her nod. "Okay. Thanks again."</p><p>Left alone, his thoughts returns to Mark. He hears the telephone ring in the office and then, Mrs. Dandridge comes back out to tell him that he’s got a call. He is confused but he scrambles to retrieve the receiver from Mrs. Dandridge nevertheless.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Derek. It’s me.” he says.</p><p>He scratches the back of his neck. Someone is going to find out. Mrs. Dandridge is going to know what they did yesterday. “Mark?” he all but whispers, “How’d you get this number?”</p><p>“Kathleen. I called your home and she picked up.”</p><p>“Okay. But you can’t call here again. I’ll call you when I get —“</p><p><em>“</em>Wait<em>,” </em>Mark interrupts, “I just want to tell you that I understand if you need some space. Take all the time you need. I will be here when you are ready.”</p><p>Derek's heart does a complex tumble, tripping over a mix of emotions.</p><p>
  <em>I will be here when you are ready.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An assurance, or a command?</em>
</p><p>He shakes his head, hangs up and resumes sweeping.</p><hr/><p>Derek lies on his bed, toying with his telephone. His chest feels constricted. He slows his breathing, trying to calm his racing pulse. He picks up the receiver. Puts it down. Picks it up again, and this time, he takes a long, deep breath along and lets it out before risking Mark’s number.</p><p><em>“</em>Hey.”</p><p>“Hey, Derek.” Mark says as though he wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon.</p><p>Derek bites his lip. “Sorry it took so long to get back to you.“</p><p>“It's fine. I get it. It’s a lot to process.”</p><p>He begins to response, think better of it and goes with a simple, “Yeah.”</p><p><em>“</em>Are you all right?”</p><p>He considers, reels back over all the heavy thinking he's done over the past three days. Picks apart some more of the tangle of emotions that has trapped him for what feels like an eternity. “I think so.”</p><p>A pause. “Do you want to talk in person?“</p><p>Derek's heart leaps up to choke him. He wipes his suddenly damp hands on his shirt and pick up his phone again. “Okay.“</p><p>“Come over for dinner.”</p><p>He swallows, taken by surprise. <em>How can he resist such an invitation?</em> He starts to say, “Yeah,“ out of habit, Thinks better of it and replaces it with, “Yes. Okay.”</p><p>“Great. Is 7 tonight okay for you?”</p><p>“I guess. I'll tell mom I'll be eating at your place.”</p><p>“Okay. Call her now and then call me back. I'll wait.“</p><p>Derek immediately calls his mother and after one ring his mother picks up. “Derek, what is it? Are your sisters alright?” his mom says, panicked.</p><p>“Everyone is alright, Mom.” he says, encouragingly. He knows she’s freaking out right now because he hardly ever calls, “I just called to ask I could eat at Mark’s tonight.”</p><p>His mother lets out a breath then, “Oh. But why don’t he come over and eat at ours? I’ll make his favourite meatloaf. He knows he’s no stranger at our house, right?”</p><p>Derek considers talking with Mark in his house where the concept of privacy is nonexistent, especially in a house with four sisters and an overbearing mother.</p><p>“He knows that but I think he wants to watch a movie without Amy throwing a fit because it’s not what she wants to watch. So, okay if I go?” he asks, waiting tensely for the reply.</p><p><em>“</em>Okay. Enjoy.”</p><p>“Thanks, mom.” He breathes his relief and hangs up as quickly as possible before calling Mark back. “Mark<em>, </em>We're on.”</p><p>“Great. See you at 7.“</p><p>“Yeah. See you, then.”</p><hr/><p>Derek feels a giddy smile creep across his face.</p><p>Mark answers the door in his apron, a heavenly aroma wafts out around him as he beams at Derek.</p><p>"Hi," Derek says, trying not to blush under the power of Mark's smile.</p><p>"Hey, Derek. Come on in."</p><p>He steps across the threshold, removes his shoes before saying, "Something smells good." He kicks himself for saying something so inane before he looks at him up and down. “Did you cook? You can't cook."</p><p>"I can't cook.” he confirms, “But I can call up Del Posto and make it look like I did." he winks at him and Derek looks down at his shoes, blushing. Mark then ushers him into the dining room with a little bow as though he was the maître d' in Del Posto himself. "Mixed mushroom ravioli in a white wine and cream sauce. Preceded by a simple salad with a lemon vinaigrette."</p><p>Derek marvels at the table, decorated with a linen runner and a gorgeous arrangement of greenery and fresh flowers at the center, and with a formal place setting at each end. He swallows drily at the thought of his clumsy fingers handling the delicate-looking flatware, the fine china, the crystal water glass. "Is this ... is all this …?" He has trouble finishing the thought.</p><p>
  <em>Is this all for him?</em>
</p><p>"Well, my mom‘s been saying I shouldn’t let my cotillion training waste away, so here is me not wasting my etiquettes away. I've also been given special permission to bring out the good china," Mark says with what appears to be a subtle blush. "Sit.”</p><p>Derek does as he is bidden, perching nervously on his chair.</p><p>Mark chuckles, not unkindly, and urges, "Relax. I’ll be a perfect gentleman tonight." He retrieves a carafe of chilled water from a serving tray on the bar and fills both water glasses, then disappears into the kitchen. He returns sans apron, bearing a serving bowl of salad and a tiny pitcher of dressing. He takes up the tongs and places a neat pile of mixed greens and fresh vegetables on Derek’s salad plate, then fills his own. He lets him pour his own dressing, then takes his turn. With the salad served, he takes his own seat opposite Derek.</p><p>Mark picks up his salad fork and smiles. "As they say in Italian, <em>Buon</em> <em>appetito</em>," he says, and spears the first bite.</p><p>Derek takes up his own salad fork gently and manoeuvres a small bite of salad into his mouth. The vinaigrette sings on his tongue, a bright complement to the crisp flavors of the salad. "Mm," he exclaims, "This is great. Really delicious."</p><p>Mark smiles across the table. "Compliments to the chef."</p><p>Derek follows Mark’s controlled eating pace, resisting the urge to plow through the salad, to get as much of that flavour into his mouth as he can. A mild sense of accomplishment sweeps through him at the thought that he has managed, in however small a way, to appear somewhat refined.</p><p>Mark dabs at his mouth with a napkin and rises, collects both salad plates and takes them into the kitchen. He returns with a serving dish that suffuses the air of the dining room with the delightful, delicious scent that greeted him at the door. He starts to spoon pasta onto Derek’s dinner plate and when drizzles it with more sauce he can feel himself salivating. He then serves himself and takes his seat again.</p><p>Derek follows his lead, cuts into a raviolo and lifts a piece to his mouth. The symphony of flavour that fills his mouth makes his eyes close and his breath come out in a groan of pleasure. The slight crystalline ting of salt just precedes the warm, earthy, basso notes of the mushrooms; the lilting soprano zing of wine lifts the smooth tenor richness of the cream. It all melds together in a harmony that nearly renders him speechless. He chews slowly, savouring every note. Once he has swallowed that first bite, his eyes drift open, and he finds Mark watching him with clear satisfaction. "This is amazing," Derek says. "I didn’t know Del Posto does delivery."</p><p>Mark takes a small sip from his water glass. "They don’t. The owner is a family friend.”</p><p>Derek looks down at his plate again, dumbfounded. Each raviolo seems so perfect. The Shepherds have made pasta before, mostly store bought and pre-made, and it has never turned out anything like this. The pasta is delicate, nearly translucent, stuffed with just the right amount of filling, neither over-plump nor too flat. Each edge perfectly crimped. Each piece a consistent size and shape. He can hardly believe this beautiful creation was made by human hands.</p><p>Derek’s eyes flit up to Mark, then back to his plate. "It's amazing," he repeats.</p><p>Mark grins his pleasure. "I'm so glad you like it, Derek. I’ll sure let the chef know."</p><p>"I love it," Derek declares, taking another bite.</p><p>Even chewing slowly, Derek makes short work of the entree. He accepts a second helping and enjoys it as thoroughly as the first.</p><p>When he has finished, Mark again clears the plates, and brings the dessert — quenelles of lime sorbet atop a fan of crisp, whisper-thin vanilla cookies. The sorbet is refreshing and tart, a delightful palate-cleanser; the cookies are airy and sweet.</p><p>"Coffee?" Mark offers when the dessert plates are cleared.</p><p>Derek shakes his head. "I'd better not. I'll be up all night."</p><p>Mark gives a delicate nod. "Then, I guess we’d better talk."</p><p>Derek’s heart stutters. In the pleasure of the meal, he had forgotten his original reason for coming there. He licks his lips. "Right."</p><p>Mark rises. "Let's go to the living room. It‘ll be more comfortable there."</p><p>He then takes a seat in an armchair and gestures for Derek to take the opposite couch. He obeys, lowering himself to the plush cushions.</p><p>"So," he says, lets the moment hang.</p><p>Derek rubs the back of his neck. "Um. I guess …" he begins, looking up at his best friend. "I guess we should talk about what happened. The other day."</p><p>"And what exactly happened, Derek?"</p><p>Derek cocks his head, narrows his eyes slightly.</p><p>
  <em>Is Mark fucking with him?</em>
</p><p>Mark steeples his fingers. "I need you to say what it was," he explains. "Give it a name."</p><p>"I …" Derek stammers. "I don't know what to ... I mean ... it wasn't exactly sex."</p><p>"Because there was no penetration?"</p><p>Derek blushes, looks down at his hands. "I mean, yeah. I guess so."</p><p>"So, what would you like to call it?" Oh, he’s so calm, so casual, as if they are discussing the weather, and not something of such significance.</p><p>"I don't know," he says, a hint of sharpness creeping into his voice. "I don't …" he shakes his head. "I can't sit here and play head games with you, Mark. I feel like …" he sighs, leans back against the couch cushions. "I feel like my head's been messed with enough."</p><p>Mark’s face does not betray any hint of emotion. "Do you feel like I've messed with your head, Derek?"</p><p>He backtracks. "No, no. Not you. Not exactly. Just ... the whole thing is really confusing, I guess."</p><p>Mark tilts his head slightly. "Are you questioning your sexual orientation?"</p><p>He stiffens, sits up a little straighter. "I mean, I still like girls." <em>Ugh</em>. He rolls his eyes inwardly.</p><p>
  <em>Way to go. Not defensive at all.</em>
</p><p>Mark simply nods. "But you also like what we did together. You like <em>not-exactly-sex</em> with me."</p><p>Derek laces and unlaces his fingers, shrugs. "I guess so, yeah."</p><p>Mark leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. "Derek," he says, "You talk like you're uncertain but I don't think you really are."</p><p>He avoids Mark’s gaze, then. "Well ... what if I did like it?"</p><p>"Then, you could ask me to do it again."</p><p>His eyes dart up at that, look to see if Mark is sincere. His dark eyes bore into him, stripping him bare. He nearly quivers, but he’s pierced there, pinned in place to stare directly at Mark.</p><p>"And I would," he says, "If you want me to." His gaze softens. "I enjoyed it very much, Derek, and I think you did, too. But honestly, how you felt about it?"</p><p>Derek takes a breath, feeling his heart crashing against his ribs. "I felt …" he casts about for the right words, settles for simplicity, for honesty and in a whisper he says, "I liked it."</p><p>He feels his face grow hot.</p><p>"And how do you feel now?"</p><p>Derek opens his mouth to answer, but finds that nothing will come out. He has wrestled with this exact question for days and days on end, and come to no real conclusion. And here, now, under Mark’s keen gaze, he feels exposed. <em>Raw</em>. Anger begins to warm in his chest. He rubs a hand over his brow. "I don't know, okay?"</p><p>Mark sits up, his features clouded with concern. "Oh, no, Derek," he says, sounding almost sad, "Don’t tell me I've broken you."</p><p>"I'm not broken," he snaps, "I'm just ... confused."</p><p>A pause. "I'm sorry," Mark says quietly.</p><p>Derek’s anger dies, replaced by fear that he's hurt Mark’s feelings. "I'm not ... it's not your fault," he says.</p><p>Mark leans back in the chair. "It is, though. I knew what I was doing but you didn't. I took advantage of you."</p><p>Derek shakes his head. "No. You didn't take advantage of me. I mean ... I told you I wanted to."</p><p>"And did you want to?"</p><p>Derek finds himself saying emphatically, "Yeah."</p><p>Mark smiles, and a warmth suffuses his entire body. "And you enjoyed it?" he asks.</p><p>Derek nods. <em>A</em> <em>lot</em>. "Yes."</p><p>"Would you like to do it again sometime?"</p><p>His mouth goes dry. He hesitates, considers the question before nodding again. But he doesn’t say ‘<em>Yes</em>’, he’s afraid of how he’ll sound.</p><p>Mark lays his hands on his lap, ducks his gaze away from his. "Derek," he asks, "May I kiss you?"</p><p>"Uh ..." he pauses, at a loss for words, but he finally quavers out, "Sure."</p><p>Mark crosses the room slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. He sits down on the couch next to him and reaches out a hand to rest the tips of his fingers to his jaw, turning his head gently before leaning forward and laying a butterfly-light kiss on his lips.</p><p>He sighs as Mark’s eyes up to meet his. "Would you like to kiss me back?"</p><p>In answer, he leans in and presses his mouth to Mark’s, feels a heat rise from his groin that fills his belly, his chest, his limbs, his face. He leans in deeper, places a hand on Mark’s back, feeling his fingers begin to tangle in his hair. The head of his cock rubs against the fabric of his underwear as he begins to harden.</p><p>Mark leans back, taking Derek with him as he reclines on the couch, lets him lie on top of him, flicking his tongue against his lips and gives a little "Mm" of satisfaction as Derek’s lips part to let him in, playing his tongue against Derek’s.</p><p>Derek’s hips begin to move, grinding against Mark’s thigh. He breaks the kiss with a small, breathy moan, his brows drawing together as he closes his eyes and loses himself for a moment in pleasure.</p><p>Mark reaches around, grabs the waistband of Derek’s shorts and he pushes him closer, pushes his thigh deeper into his groin that draws a louder moan from him.</p><p>He takes a long breath deep into his chest and then says, "Upstairs," with a grin.</p><p>Derek nods, frantic with desire. He leaps up from the couch and heads for the stairs. Mark follows fast on his heels, practically races him to the second floor and down the hall to the bedroom. And as soon as the door shuts behind them, Derek begins to tear out of his clothes, shedding his shirt and shorts and underwear within seconds and starting in on Mark’s. Mark’s body bangs against the door then, as he pushes, and he lets out a sharp little sound that makes him pause.</p><p>"No. No. Keep going," Mark breathes.</p><p>Derek unzips Mark’s trousers, yanks them down, pulling his underwear down with the same savagery. He reaches up to tear at his shirt and finds that Mark is already half done unbuttoning it. He puts his hands on either side of Mark’s face and pulls him into another kiss, forces his tongue into his mouth, stops only when he hears the sound of Mark’s shirt hitting the floor.</p><p>Mark steps out of his trousers, puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders and pushes him back toward the bed. He stumbles across the room before flopping onto the bed. Mark climbs on top of him, kisses him savagely, seizes Derek’s erect cock and begins to stroke it.</p><p>He yelps at the sudden pleasure, writhes against the blankets, the sheets, flailing out an arm and finds Mark’s shoulder, grips it tightly.</p><p>Mark works him with one hand and his own with the other, pumping furiously and moaning low in his throat. Derek breathes in heavy, sharp gasps, gulping air with desperate speed. Mark pants just as hard, his breath coming in ragged little growls while Derek bucks under him. His eyes squeezes shut, mouth fixed in a slack-jawed expression of total submission to the sensations bombarding his body.</p><p>Mark groans at the beauty of it.</p><p>Derek’s gasping suddenly turns to moaning, his pitch rising as he surges in Mark’s hand. The sound drives him wild; his own cock responds in kind, and soon they come in unison. Hot white rivulets splash onto Derek’s heaving belly, and Mark collapses onto the bed next to him, shuddering as aftershocks of pleasure rock his body.</p><p>He recovers more quickly than Derek, and gets up to retrieve the wipes from under the bed. He cleans up fastidiously and lays the pack on the bed next to Derek. He gathers up and begins to putting his clothes back on.</p><p>Derek reaches for the pack of wipes without opening his eyes, grabs a handful, and scrubs at his sticky skin. Sitting up slowly, his body sluggish, then he gets to his feet and crosses the room and takes Mark’s face in his hands, giving him a lazy, languorous kiss. "That was —"</p><p>A click from downstairs cuts off his words; the sound of the front door being unlocked and then, the door closes.</p><p>Derek and Mark both freeze at the unexpected sound.</p><p>"<em>Mark</em>?"</p><p>A light, musical voice. He knows that voice.  Mark’s mother. His eyes go wide, and he begins frantically grabbing up his clothes and pulling them back on.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>,” Mark curses under his breath, “And she decides to come <em>home</em> early, tonight of all nights,” Mark whispers, sounding a little panicked  turning his head and calls out, "Upstairs, Mom. I'll be down in a minute." He rushes to do up the last few buttons of his shirt.</p><p>"Okay. Goodness, something smells delicious. Did you cook?"</p><p>His mother sounds as uncertain of that as Derek was.</p><p>Mark opens the bedroom door and proceeds out to the landing, gestures for Derek to follow him. Derek zips up his shorts and goes after Mark. "No. It’s Del Ponto," Mark calls down. "There's some left, if you're hungry." He takes a breath, smooths his hair, and just like that, his composure has returned. And he flows down the stairs, all grace and calm.</p><p>"Starving. Hearing got canceled. Mr. Nolan will be spending his night in county jail once again."</p><p>"That's unfortunate." Mark rounds the corner to the dining room with Derek in tow.</p><p>"What’s one more night? The real work is tomorrow, so we haven't actually missed much. How was your dinner party?"</p><p>There, in the kitchen, an elegant, middle-aged woman in an impeccably-tailored skirt suit, pulling a plate from a cabinet. She turns with a smile, then says, "Oh. Hello,” when she sees Derek.</p><p>"Hi, Mrs. Sloan," Derek says, lifting a hand in greeting.</p><p>Her eyes light up with recognition. "Oh, Derek! Mark’s best friend. Oh, wow! You’re all grown up. Last I saw you, you were what — In middle school?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess.”</p><p>“How are you?”</p><p>"I'm fine, thanks," Derek answers, shifts his weight to his other foot.</p><p>“How are your mom and sisters?”</p><p>He nods, “They’re doing well.”</p><p>“I was meaning to call you’re mom to catch up and to thank her for all that she’s done for Mark but I’ve been swamped with work .”</p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Oh, yeah, that’d be nice. I think mom would like that.”</p>
</div><p>Mrs. Sloan leans casually against the counter. "So you're Mark’s<em> 'special friend’ </em>for whom we use the good china."</p><p>Derek blushes, beginning to stammer a reply.</p><p>"Yeah," Mark answers, saving him from the embarrassment of tripping over his words. "We were just about to begin cleaning up. Do you want us to keep you company?"</p><p>She waves a hand. "Don't worry about that." She turns to the serving dishes and begins portioning salad and ravioli onto her plate. "Besides, I have to get some more work done tonight." She looks at Derek over her shoulder, "So I'm afraid this must be adieu for the evening."</p><p>"Oh, um," Derek says, "It was good seeing you, Mrs. Sloan."</p><p>The corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles. "You as well. And thank you for keeping Mark company, I'm certain he appreciates it."</p><p>Mark nods, grinning. "I do."</p><p>"Well," Mrs. Sloan says, "I'll leave you two to it. Good night, Derek."</p><p>"Good night," he responds as she glides from the room, graceful as a dancer.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>xxx</b>
  </p>
</div><p>Mark goes to the sink and begins running water for the dishes. When Derek hangs back, he turns and looks over his shoulder.</p><p>Derek wears a shy little smile. "'<em>Special</em> <em>friend</em>?'" he asks.</p><p>Mark nods. "Yeah. For whom we use the good china.” he sighs and explains, “The good china is only used when a special friend comes over or the president.” He offers up a dish towel. "Will you dry?"</p><p>Derek comes forward and accepts the towel. "Sure."</p><p>Mark seems to lose himself in the task of gently washing the delicate china; for Derek it is not so easy. His mind whirls with doubt and insecurity, excitement and giddy hope. As they move on from the china and to the serving dishes, Derek pauses, taking a breath.</p><p>"Is this ... was this a date?" he asks, feeling the blood drain from his face as he does so.</p><p>Mark regards him with reserved coolness. "Would you like it to be?"</p><p>Derek deliberates within himself, feels a pit open up in his stomach. He looks down at the dish in his hands. "I, um, I don't know if I'm ready for that."</p><p>Mark takes a moment, looking at him, before going back to washing up. "Then, it wasn't," he says, <em>seeming</em> completely unbothered, "This was simply dinner with my best friend." No mention of what came after dinner.</p><p>Derek feels as though a door has shut, and regrets his choice. He thinks Mark might be disappointed but he doesn’t know. They finish the dishes in silence. Derek dries his hands, gives the towel over to Mark and says, "I should go."</p><p>He makes no move to stop him. "Okay. Let me walk you to the door." he say, emotionless. So formal. So distant.</p><p>He opens the door, and Derek steps out onto the porch. "I guess ... I'll see you, then," he says. "And, um, thanks so much. For dinner." He almost <em>adds, ‘and everything else’ </em>but Mark’s expression is closed to him, a mystery.<br/><br/>He’s knows his best friend. He’s knows he’s hurt.</p><p>"No problem." No inflection. Then, as he turns to start down the steps, "And Derek?"</p><p>He stops mid-stride and turns back.</p><p>"I enjoyed making you come."</p><p>Derek turns scarlet, looks around to see if anyone has heard. The street is empty. He looks up at Mark, aghast, but he simply stands in the doorway, relaxed. Placid. Derek can't think of anything else to say.</p><p>Mark finally gives a tiny smile. Just a faint lifting of the corners of his mouth. "Good night, Derek."</p><p>"Y-yeah. G'night." He rushes down the steps and runs back to his own home.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed! I’m enjoying writing this for some reason. ;)</em> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Phone Calls, White Lies, and the Virgin Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek calls Mark and the rest is history.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"><em><strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p>
  <b>3</b>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Phone Calls, White Lies, and the Virgin Boy </strong>
  </p>
  <hr/>
</div><p>Derek’s fingers tremble uncontrollably. He thinks he finally understands why people say, <em>I could use a drink</em>. Not that he has any real experience with drinking, but he understands the need for a chemical cushion, the desire for an aid to still the anxiety, to quiet the clamor of doubt. <em>Liquid</em> <em>courage</em>. He rubs his hands together, takes a deep breath and picks up his phone again as he recalls their last conversation almost over a week ago.</p><p>
  <em>“Are we okay, Mark?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Of course, we are, Derek. Why wouldn’t we be?”</em>
</p><p>He didn’t look <em>‘okay’</em> and the way he answered him, it was so obvious that Mark had been wounded by him.</p><p>
  <em>“Did you want it to be a date?”</em>
</p><p>He puts his phone down and walks to the other side of his bedroom, staring at his desk for some sort of clue.</p><p>
  <em>Should he call Mark?</em>
</p><p>He should. He should make up with Mark by now. It’s been almost two weeks since he’s seen him and he misses his best friend.</p><p>He paces back and forth, back and forth. It seems an agonising eternity before he picks up his phone with the imaginary liquid courage and dials Mark’s number.</p><p>The phone is ringing, and two rings later he hears Mark’s smooth, calm voice, like it’s the first time he’s heard it and not a thousand times too many already and it makes his heart stop. “Hi, Derek.”</p><p>“Hey, Mark.”</p><p>“How are you?”</p><p>Derek runs his hand through his hair, manages to keep the quaver out of his voice. “Yeah, good. You?”</p><p>“I’m glad to hear your voice. I was worried.”</p><p>His face catches in an awkward expression, unsure whether to smile or frown. Mark was worried about him. He says back, “Worried?”</p><p>“I thought I had frightened you away ... with <em>everything</em> and I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”</p><p>Derek’s face settles on a frown. Several days have gone by without any communication; no wonder Mark was worried. “I will always want to be your friend, Mark.” He bites his lip, considers how to proceed. “I just needed some time to think — “ he stops before adding, “Again.”</p><p>“So, you decided to call?” There’s a slight tinge of amusement in his voice at that.</p><p>Derek shrugs. “Yeah. I thought ... I thought it would be better. This way.”</p><p>“And no record of the conversation, for someone to find later.”</p><p>“What? No, I mean ... yeah, I guess that’s true, but that’s not why I called.”</p><p>“Oh? So, what is it that kept you thinking for almost a whole week?”</p><p>Derek balks, breaks out in a sweat. He wonders how to answer, how to explain the storm of emotions and desires that had plagued him for days. He takes a deep breath and decides to be brave. “Yeah, I ...” he hesitates, licking his lips, “I just wanted to ... to say <em>it</em>.”</p><p>Mark waits.</p><p>Derek heaves a sigh. “Like ... you said I should say it, or name it, or whatever, and I couldn’t. Before. And I don’t know if giving it a name, to what we did, I don’t know if that’s important. But I think maybe talking about it is. So ... I wanted to, y’know ... talk about it.”</p><p>“Okay.” There was a pause. “Would you like to come over?”</p><p>“I think …” Derek scuffs his foot against the carpet. “I think this is good. For now.”</p><p>“Oh ... yeah. What do you want to talk about?”</p><p>Derek perches on the edge of his bed. “I guess just ... we just, y’know ... talk.”</p><p>“I can do that with you, Derek.”</p><p>Mark’s tone is gentle. <em>Caring</em>. So, Derek relaxes a little, settles more comfortably on the bed. “So, um,” he begins, “I’ve never done anything like that.”</p><p>“With another man?”</p><p>“With …” he stutters, rubbing his damp palm against his shorts, “with anybody, actually.”</p><p>“You came to me a virgin.” Mark sounds surprise at the revelation. “I thought you hit a home run with Jessica.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says slowly. It’s better to tell the truth now that it’s out in the open, “It was a lot easier to say that I did than I didn’t.”</p><p>“Tell me at least she yanked you.”</p><p>“Umm. You’re the first who’s ever ... <em>touched</em> me.”</p><p>“Well, Derek, then this changes everything.”</p><p>He panics. “What? No it doesn’t, I mean, it doesn’t have to. I mean ... what do you mean, changes everything?”</p><p>“Relax, Derek,” Mark soothes, “Goodness,” He can basically see his best friend rolling his eyes, “I simply meant that I have more of a <em>responsibility</em> to you, now.”</p><p>Derek’s brow furrows as he frowns. “Responsibility?”</p><p>“Everything between us will be a series of firsts,” Mark explains, “Like it or not, it will shape you. I will shape you. So, I must be careful.”</p><p>The corner of Derek’s mouth pulls back. “I’m not made of glass.”</p><p>“No. You are flesh and blood and more than that — you are a unique character of thoughts that composes of your mind, spirit and soul, and most importantly, <em>secrets</em>. You are human.” he says it with added flare as though he were reciting a scripture.</p><p>It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to treat me like I’m breakable.”</p><p>Mark does not answer. Not right away, though.</p><p>A handful of seconds ticks by in silence and just as Derek draws breath to ask if he is still there, Mark says gently, “I know you mean what you say, Derek, that you’re not breakable. But I also know that our ... <em>encounters</em> have left you feeling conflicted. I know it’s causing you turmoil and that has never been my intention, ever. I don’t want that for you ... <em>if</em> we continue.”</p><p>“Mark, I just,” Derek says quickly before pausing. He slows down, tries not to sound so desperate. “I just needed to think, that’s all. And I’ve done that now. And I …” he licks his lips, “I think I’m ready. For whatever this is.”</p><p>“And now you get to name it,” Mark instructs, “What is this, Derek?”</p><p>Derek’s breath catches, snags on the knowledge that his answer could make or break the future — their future. “It’s …” he looks around his room, listens carefully to the rest of the house, to the driveway and the street outside. No one else is home but him, Liz and Kathleen<em> (Amy is in ballet</em> <em>class and Nancy is off in college)</em> and their dog. No parental vehicles approaching. No one to hear him at all, except for the boy at the other end of the call. “It’s <em>sex</em>,” Derek declares. “It’s sex. It’s me and you. And I want it. I want sex with you.”</p><p>“Then,” Mark says, in a throaty purr that makes his head spin and his cock ache, “that is what you shall have.”</p><p>Derek shivers with delight and eagerness. “When?”</p><p>Mark chuckles. “Now.”</p><p>His brows shoot up. “Okay, um, I can be over in —”</p><p>“No. Not here.”</p><p>“But …” Derek panics. “I can’t ... we can’t do it over here, my mom will be home and Nancy and Lizzie —”</p><p>“Derek.” Mark stops him from rambling, stern. Then, softer, he says, “I want you to go and lock your bedroom door.”</p><p>He frowns. “I ... what?”</p><p>“Stay on the phone and go lock your door.”</p><p>He hesitates because his mother has a strict rule about their doors never ever being locked, even when there is no company in their rooms. And if his sisters, Lizzie was with Nancy in their room the last he checked, finds out he had locked his bedroom door ... But nevertheless, he gets up from the bed, crosses the room and locks his door. “Okay,” he says, sure that Mark has heard the<em> ‘click’</em>, “it’s locked.”</p><p>“Good. Now.” Again, that throaty purr, “Tell me what you’re wearing.”</p><p>He looks down. “The, uh. The same thing I’m usually wearing, I guess. T-shirt and shorts.”</p><p>“Take them off.”</p><p>Warmth begins to bloom just behind his navel. “My clothes?”</p><p>“Yeah. Take them all off.”</p><p>“I’ll have to, um, put the phone down,” he says, unbuttoning his shorts.</p><p>“Well, of course, genius,” Mark teases him. “Pick it back up when you’re done.”</p><p>“Okay.” Derek sets his phone down on his desk. He unzips his shorts and lets them fall down around his ankles and steps out of them. He pulls his shirt over his head and shrugs out of it, dropping it on top of his shorts. Hesitating, he pulls down his boxers and slips out of them as well. Then, as instructed he picks up his phone. “Okay. I’m done.”</p><p>“Are you naked, Derek?”</p><p>He blushes. “Yeah, I’m ... I’m naked.”</p><p>“And how do you feel?”</p><p>“I feel, um …” he looks down at his body, looks back up around the room. “I feel kind of ... like I’m getting away with something.”</p><p>“Go on,” Mark invites him to elaborate.</p><p>Derek runs a hand through his hair. “Like ... Well, I’ve been naked in my room before. A lot. But this is ... different.”</p><p>“Well, this is different. Let me show you how different. Go to the window.”</p><p>His heart pounds away in his chest as he crosses the room. He hangs back from the window a little, even though the curtains are drawn.</p><p>“Derek, I need you to look out the window.” Mark says like he knows he’s hesitant, like he’s here and he’s watching him.</p><p>He twitches the curtain back just a fraction and peeks out. Across the span of lawns and driveways that separates the Shepherd house from the Khan house, in the narrow sea of humid air, he sees Mr. Khan mowing the lawn and children his age and younger playing in the backyard. A few of them he recognises from school and he gasps — it’s Iman from math and AP chemistry — drawing back the curtains before any one of them could see him and before he could traumatise the kids and get into big trouble.</p><p>“Someone saw you?”</p><p>Shaking his head, “I don’t think so,” he says, “But Iman is here.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. She’s Aliyah’s cousin.” Aliyah is the girl next door, Mr. Khan’s daughter, they go to the same school but she’s a year younger, “Didn’t you like have a crush on Iman for like forever?“</p><p>He did and it was all throughout elementary; it was forever ago. He finally had the courage to tell her of his feelings in sixth grade, after years of just letting it fester and he gave her a card that said it all and a rose for Valentine’s Day and she said she couldn’t accept it because her father would kill her if he finds out.</p><p>
  <em>(“Not the figure of speech kind, the literal kind of kill me. I’m sorry, Derek, but thank you so much. You’re the only boy who’s ever given me something for Valentine’s Day.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, well, you’re a great person and you deserve it.”)</em>
</p><p>He still has the card he gave her. And he’s not pathetic like Mark said he is.</p><p>“Did you want her to see you naked?”</p><p>He doesn’t want to talk about her like that so he changes the subject. “Are you at your window, too?”</p><p>“Yeah. The blinds are draw, curtains thrown back. I’m lying on the bed stark naked.”</p><p>Derek’s heart flops wildly. “Aren’t you afraid somebody will see you?” he stammers out, mouth agape.</p><p>He’s afraid if Mr. Khan, or the kids next door, sees him, he’ll tell his mom and his mom will find out about what he’s been doing with Mark and she’ll hate him or disown him, or worse, she won’t let him see Mark anymore.</p><p>“I’ve been seen by the only person that matters,” he says, “Now that you know we are both getting away with something. Let’s get away with something <em>more</em>.”</p><p>He licks his lips. “Something more?” he repeats.</p><p>“Go and lie on your bed,” Mark instructs.</p><p>Derek does as bidden, stretching out on his back. “Okay. What do I do now?”</p><p>“I want you to remember what we’ve done together. I want you to hold it in your mind. Everything from when I first kissed you to the last moment of your last orgasm with me. Remember how it felt to be kissed. Remember how it felt to come in my hand.”</p><p>A warm flush blooms in Derek’s face and it travels all the way down to his neck, diffuses into his chest, his belly, his groin.</p><p>“Touch your face, Derek. Stroke your cheek with the back of your fingers. Gently. And tell me what you feel.”</p><p>“It feels …” he casts about for the right words. “My skin is warm. Hot. It’s kind of ... tingly.”</p><p>“Trail your fingertips across your cheek, to your mouth. Graze them across your lips. Feel your breath on your fingers. Feel its warmth. Breathe slowly, deeply, as you touch. How does that feel?”</p><p>Derek closes his eyes, slows his breath and teases his mouth as Mark instructed. Then, he draws his fingers away to say, “It tickles a little bit. But in a good way.”</p><p>“Do you feel anything else, anywhere in your body?”</p><p>Derek concentrates on the many sensations, expands his awareness. “I feel warm. All over,” he breathes, “I can feel my pulse ... everywhere.”</p><p>“Hold onto that,” Mark says. “Now trail your fingers down your throat. Keep your touch light. Feel that warmth in your skin. Feel the pulse jumping in your throat. Feel it coming faster. Feel it begin to build your arousal. Are you aroused, Derek?”</p><p>Derek’s fingertips linger at the hollow of his throat and — <em>yes</em>, his pulse does begin to come faster. “Yeah,” he answers.</p><p>“Then, bring your hand lower, to your chest. Let it hover just above your heart. Feel the heat radiate between them, between your hand and your heart. Feel the beating of your blood in your chest in your fingertips. Feel it in your belly, in the flesh of your inner thighs. Feel the blood coursing through your body. Feel it coursing into your cock.”</p><p>Derek jumps. His blood has indeed been coursing into his cock, bringing him half-hard already.</p><p>“Lay your hand on your stomach, just above your navel. Breathe into your belly. Take deep, warm breaths all the way down. Pull them in. Feel your breath beneath your hand. Now, begin to rub slow, small circles with your hand — lightly — caress your skin. Let the circles become larger, dip lower. Lower still.”</p><p>Derek’s mouth drops open. His cock hardens in anticipation as his hand strays lower and he swallows hard.</p><p>“What do you want, Derek? What do you want to do?”</p><p>He can’t keep his breath slow and deep any more. “I want to ... to ...” he let a little slip of moan, then. “I want to touch myself …”</p><p>“Not yet,” Mark says, his voice husky, “Not yet. Feel your desire building. Let it fill you. Let it lift you. Let it carry you.”</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Derek whispers. His hand slips lower, fingers stretching, trembling, towards his aching cock.</p><p>“Reach down and brush your fingertips along your shaft.”</p><p>Derek whimpers as his fingers finally make contact.</p><p>“Keep touching like that. Light fingers. Gentle strokes. Go on like that. Just like that, Derek.”</p><p>Derek listens to Mark’s breathing, suddenly so very audible. He begins to sweat.</p><p>“Wrap your fingers around your shaft, now, and stroke the head of your cock with your thumb.”</p><p>Derek complies with a moan, his back arching.</p><p>“Mm,” Mark groans. “Yes, just like that, Derek. Just like that. Keep going.” Mark’s breaths are coming faster now. <em>Harder</em>. “Tell me what you want.”</p><p>“I want to jerk off so bad, Mark.”</p><p>“Slowly. Do it slowly. Long strokes, from deep at the base of your shaft, all the way to the head of your cock.”</p><p>Derek gives a long moan at the first stroke, he grips tight and continues to pump with agonising slowness.</p><p>“Are you imagining me stroking your cock or ... Iman?”</p><p>“You ...” Derek moans, gives a breathy response.</p><p>“Derek,” Mark moans, and it’s then that Derek loses his control, begins stroking himself with furious abandon. “Yes, Derek ... Derek.” He’s louder this time.</p><p>Derek’s legs writhe, tangling in the bedsheets as he builds toward climax. He and Mark trade moans back and forth, back and forth, an erotic call-and-response that drives Derek to a dizzied frenzy. <em>God!</em> Finally, a long moan boils out from deep in his belly, and cum spills sticky down over his fingers.</p><p>In his afterglow, he hears Mark panting into the phone. Hears the panting gain speed and depth, reach a fever pitch that stutters out into a satisfied groan.</p><p>Derek lies on the bed, just listening to Mark breathe, feeling his own breathing return to normal, feeling his pulse still thundering in his throat, his face, all the way to his fingers and toes, feeling a lightness buoy his whole being.</p><p>“Derek?” It’s soft and languorous. “Are you still there?”</p><p>He blinks lazily. “Yeah, I’m still here.”</p><p>“Good.” Mark gives a long sigh. “Was that good for you?”</p><p>He sits up slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, it was really good.”</p><p>“I’m glad. It was good for me, too.”</p><p>“So ... what do we do now?” Derek asks.</p><p>“Now that we‘ve gotten away with this,” Mark says, “we make arrangements to be alone together soon, and find out what else we can get away with.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>Thanks for reading.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I kind of added myself and mentioned my overprotective father into the story (sorry dad). I made Derek have a crush on me - well, had. Haha! It’s fanfiction. And no, of course my dad would not have killed me (I don’t think so) but it sure felt that way at that time to eleven year old me. My dad just shipped me to an all-girls Catholic high school and that’s not to say I hated the six years I was there. Oh, and I enjoy writing gay porn now.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I’m sure going to hell.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>This has been fun. Let me know what you think.</em> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Greek Mythology, Sketches, and the Little Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mark gives Derek an experience he’ll never forget. Derek makes an important choice. And apparently, Mark can draw.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="u"><em><strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong> </em> </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>4</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Greek Mythology, Sketches, and the Little Death</strong>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
  <p>As soon as Mark’s bedroom door shuts, Derek launches himself at him, pressing his mouth with kisses and pawing at his belt buckle. Mark puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders, emits a light chuckle before he gives his shoulders a light squeeze and gently pushes Derek back until the kiss is broken.</p>
</div><p>Derek searches Mark’s face, almost panicked. “Am I ... did I do something wrong, Mark?” he asks.</p><p>Mark leans forward and plants a soft kiss on Derek’s mouth, then nuzzles his cheek. “Not wrong,” he says, “Just too hasty.”</p><p>Derek frowns. “But I thought we were gonna ... y’know …”</p><p>Mark pulls back and looks deep into Derek’s eyes. “Relax,” he purrs, “We have all night.”</p><p>Derek reddens under the power of Mark’s gaze. “Oh, yeah. Okay.”</p><p>Mark lays a warm hand on Derek’s cheek, strokes his thumb across the vivid pink there. “I like the way you blush, Derek,” he murmurs, “It’s very <em>pretty</em>.”</p><p>“Pretty?” Derek squints, then raises a brow. “Like a girl, pretty?”</p><p>Mark chuckles. “Like a Grecian youth, of ancient mythology. You would make a lovely <em>Ganymede</em>, Derek. Stolen away by the Gods for his beauty, to become the cup-bearer of Zeus. I’ll draw you that way, sometime.”</p><p>He remembers his best friend has a talent for drawing, especially portraits.</p><p>When they were in kids, they used to make their own comic books. Mark would do the illustration, of course, and he the dialogs and they even sold some for a while. Well, until Mrs. Connor found out and they got into trouble.</p><p>Derek’s mouth quirks into the beginning of a nervous smile. “Do you ... do you want to do that now?”</p><p>Mark shakes his head. “Right now, I want to kiss you till you’re blushing all over. Come here,” he says, taking Derek’s hand as he leads him over to the bed. He draws Derek down to sit, wraps an arm around him and pulls him forward to graze Derek’s lips with his own.</p><p>Mark’s breath flows warm across Derek’s mouth, sending a tingle from his scalp down the back of his neck and into his shoulders. He shivers at the feeling. Mark’s nose then brushes oh-so lightly against his, and their lips meet, pliant and sweet. Derek melts further, reaches out and presses a hand to the small of Mark’s back and in turn, Mark strokes his hand all the way down Derek’s spine, slipping his hand underneath his shirt.</p><p>Derek choses to break the kiss at that moment, then goes in for another. He moves his mouth against Mark’s, luxuriates in the feel of his soft lips against his own.</p><p>Mark starts to lean sideways, pulling Derek down to lie on the bed. His hand moves away from Derek’s back and strays up to stroke his curls and Derek follows suit, reaching up and running his fingers across Mark’s hair.</p><p>Mark’s smile brings their mouths apart for a only moment. He runs his fingers through Derek’s hair, begins to massage his scalp a little.</p><p>“Mmm,” Derek murmurs, “That feels great.”</p><p>Mark turns to kiss Derek’s cheek. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispers before pressing his mouth to Derek’s again, more firmly this time.</p><p>Derek cups Mark’s cheek, then brings his other hand to rest against the back of Mark’s neck to bring their bodies closer — closer until their chests touch. He feels the beat of Mark’s heart quickening. His own heartbeat speeds up in response.</p><p>He trails his hand down Mark’s neck, his shoulder, his arm, brings it around to rest on Mark’s taut stomach, rubs at his abs through his shirt.</p><p>Mark’s mouth opens, lets out a soft delightful sound.</p><p>Derek’s eyes flit up, finds Mark’s closed. “Do you like that?”</p><p>Nodding, Mark swallows. “Yeah. Very much.”</p><p>Derek untucks Mark’s shirt, slips his hand inside to run it across Mark’s belly.</p><p>Mark gasps sharply and shivers, squirming to get as close as he can to Derek. Derek’s body grows warm all over.</p><p>Leaning his head forward, he lays fevered kisses on Mark’s throat as he continues to caress Mark’s stomach, flicking his tongue out. He tastes salt on Mark’s heated skin. Then, his hand wanders lower, lower and he begins to run his tongue up the side of Mark’s neck, to his earlobe.</p><p>Mark sucks in a long, shuddering breath. “Derek,” he moans, “Oh, <em>fu</em> —Derek …”</p><p>Derek laps at his earlobe, pushes his hand lower, slipping his fingers inside the waistband of Mark’s trousers. Mark reaches down, aiding in unbuckling his belt with eager fingers and just as quickly Derek thrusts his hand down Mark’s pants, finds him erect.</p><p>Derek’s pulse thunders down to his groin, and that brings him up as well. He seizes Mark’s cock and squeezes against its hardness. Mark responds in arching his back, and thrusting his hips forward, pumping his cock in Derek’s closed fist. He tugs at Mark’s trousers this time, trying to pull them down one-handed. Mark reaches to help, slips his trousers and underwear down over his hips, baring himself.</p><p>Derek lightens his grip and begins to stroke Mark and suck his earlobe at the same time. Mark wraps his arms around Derek, sinks his fingers into the flesh of his back, leaving a trail of moans against his neck. Derek’s mouth drops open at the sound, the feel of Mark’s warm breath on his skin is almost pushing him off the edge. He strokes Mark faster, reaches his free hand into his own shorts and begins to work his own cock.</p><p>Mark rolls over onto his back now, pulling Derek on top of him. He unbuttons Derek’s shorts, drawing down the zipper, and tugs them down along with his boxers. He helps Derek slip out of both, then roughly tugs his shirt over his head, down his arms, discarding the articles on the bed. Quickly, he kicks off his own as well, lets them fall to the floor before unbuttoning his shirt and throws it open.</p><p>Derek bends and licks Mark’s chest, right up the cleft between his pectoral muscles. Again, he tastes sweat. Then, he finds his way back to Mark’s mouth, eagerly accepts his hungry kisses.</p><p>Mark nips at Derek’s lower lip, and he presses his mouth to Mark’s more firmly in return, too roughly maybe. Mark continues to buck his hips against Derek’s hand, growling low in his throat and bites harder at Derek’s lip. Derek cries out in a whimpers and leans into it.</p><p>Mark lets go of his lip, but brings his hand up to shove two fingers into Derek’s mouth. Derek sucks at his fingers, pumps his cock with desperate speed, as he works his own just as fiercely. Mark’s head drops back as he writhes on the bed, moaning. He’s never seen anything so beautiful as Derek is right now.</p><p>The sound of Mark moaning for him drives an ache deep in his balls, brings him rock-hard. He gasps for air, squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>Mark flounders on the bed, groaning, “Come on me ... come on me, Derek. Come for me.”</p><p>Derek moans, long and high, and finally comes onto Mark’s belly. Cum then spurts from Mark and it mingles with his own. Derek opens his eyes slowly, holds his position for a moment, watching Mark’s glistening chest rise and fall as he gulps for air.</p><p>Slipping from the bed to the floor, he pulls out the pack of wipes that he knows are under the bed and scrubs down his cock and his hands. He offers the pack to Mark, then, and he reaches out with languorous hands and takes it, wipes the cum from his belly before turning to Derek.</p><p>“Come back,” he says, patting the bed next to him. “Lie with me.”</p><p>Derek obeys, climbing back onto the bed. He spoons up against Mark’s side, hooking his leg over Mark’s and draping an arm over his chest. Mark slips his arm beneath Derek’s neck, lays his hand on Derek’s shoulder. He stroked his skin there, his touch so tender. Turning his head, he kisses Derek’s brow, to which he closes his eyes. He settles in deeper, content and lets himself drift off, feeling serene and satisfied.</p><hr/><p>Derek wakes up alone in the bed, awash in soft lamplight. He rubs at his eyes and looks around to see a robed Mark Sloan sitting on a chair across the room, and facing him, a sketch pad on his lap, pencil in his hand.</p><p>“Lie back,” Mark whispers with a little smile. “Just like before.”</p><p>Derek eases back down to the mattress, lying on his side, arm extended toward where Mark had lain. “Like this?” he whispers back.</p><p>Mark nods.</p><p>Derek lies still and quiet and watches Mark draw. Mark’s face is so utterly calm, the hard angles of his cheeks and jaws softens; his expression relaxed. The corners of his mouth rise into a gentle smile every time his eyes flit up to refer back to Derek’s body. Derek wonders whether Mark is even aware he’s doing it, giving that hint of a smile, and he finds himself smiling a little at that, too.</p><p>Mark tips his head to one side. “Derek,” he says, his voice low, “Close your eyes. Relax your face. You should look like you’re sleeping.”</p><p>“Oops, sorry,” Derek says, quickly shutting his eyes. “Couldn’t help it.”</p><p>He could watch him like this all day.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Mark murmurs. “Just hold still for a minute.”</p><p>Derek begins to drowse, floating away on a sea of tranquility. The only sound in the room is the light scratch of Mark’s pencil on the paper and Derek’s breathing grows even slower.</p><p>“Okay,” Mark says gently, “You can open your eyes now.”</p><p>Derek’s eyes drift open lazily, he yawns. “I might fall back asleep for real.”</p><p>Mark chuckles. “If you do, I‘ll kiss you awake, then.”</p><p>Derek’s heart thumps at that thought. “Then, maybe I’d better fall asleep.”</p><p>Mark’s eyes meet Derek’s. He smiles at him before dropping his gaze back to his sketch pad. “I’ll kiss you when I’m finished, regardless,” he says.</p><p>Derek yawns again. “Promise?”</p><p>“Promise. And I’m nearly finished anyway.”</p><p>Derek gives a leisurely blink. “Do I make a lovely <em>Ganymede</em>?” he asks.</p><p>He doesn’t know much about Greek mythology, unlike Mark, who used to go on and on about it. He remembers Mark telling of Ganymede, once upon a time. Mark told him that Ganymede was the most beautiful of all mortal, and Zeus fell in love with his beauty and abducts him in the form of an eagle to serve as his cup-bearer in Olympus.</p><p>He thinks the reason why his best friend was so obsessed with Greek Mythology when they were kids was because with every tale comes a teaching, a resolution, a conclusion, whether be it of good or bad, there was always an ending to the story. Unlike Mark’s entire childhood when there was no ending to being alone, no ending or beginning to his parents coming home and when they do, they’d always be fighting. He probably finds comfort in those stories.</p><p>“You would, of course. But I’ve changed my mind. I’m drawing you as <em>Endymion</em>,” Mark answers, eyes still on his art. “He was very handsome. He was the beloved of Selene, the moon, who was cast into an eternal sleep, so she could gaze upon the beauty of his slumber every night.”</p><p>Derek smiles, his cheeks tingling. He rolls his eyes a little at Mark’s dramatic flare. “You think I’m beautiful in my sleep?”</p><p>“I think you’re beautiful in every state,” Mark says matter-of-factly. Then, with a wicked grin, “Especially when you’re naked.”</p><p>Derek’s cheeks begin to burn fiercely. “I, uh ... I feel the same way about you,” he admits.</p><p>Mark looks up from his sketch pad. “That’s good,” he says, “I enjoy every moment I spend with you, Derek.” he says and returns to his work.</p><p>“I think our time together has already been extremely pleasant,” Derek says, a languorous smile playing about his lips.</p><p>“Oh, Derek,” Mark says, his eyes still on his sketch pad, “I have so much more to show you.”</p><p>Derek licks his lips. “Like what?” he ventures.</p><p>Mark smiles, raising his eyes to gaze across the room at Derek and he says slowly, “There’s a French euphemism for orgasm, ‘<em>la petite mort’</em>. It means <em>the little death</em>.”</p><p>Derek cocks his head, scrutinises Mark’s face, trying to see if he’s teasing. “Death? An orgasm isn’t anything like dying.”</p><p>Mark arches one eyebrow and sets his sketch pad aside. “Isn’t it, though? Haven’t you ever had an experience with a particularly strong orgasm — a feeling of transcendence and euphoria even if it’s only temporary. We let go of all our bottled up fears in a pleasurable release. Doesn’t it feel a bit like death?”</p><p>Derek looks away, suddenly bashful. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.</p><p>Mark leans forward in his chair, peers at Derek for a long minute. “You don’t know,” he confirms with a grin. “Oh, Derek,” he says, gleeful, “Don’t be like that. This is something we can fix.”</p><p>Derek’s head snaps back in Mark’s direction. “I don’t ... you mean now?”</p><p>Mark nods, his dark eyes twinkling. He rises from his chair and crosses the room to sit on the bed next to Derek. “Is this something you’d like to experience, Derek?” he asks.</p><p>Derek props himself up on one elbow, looking up at Mark. “I mean ... it sounds great, but it sounds terrifying, too.”</p><p>Mark lifts one shoulder slightly. “It can ... be both. If only death could feel like one big orgasm. But if you would like to try,” he reaches out and strokes Derek’s face, “I’ll try to keep it from being too terrifying. We can start slow.”</p><p>Derek nods. “Okay.”</p><p>“Great. Now, come and kiss me, Derek,” Mark says.</p><p>Derek sits up, leans in to plant a kiss on Mark’s mouth. Mark wraps his arms around him and draws him in closer, giving Derek soft, lingering kisses until the tension goes out of his body. Derek brings his hands up, places them on Mark’s chest as Mark begins to stroke Derek’s back, his touch feather-light, causing Derek to shiver.</p><p>“Are you cold?” Mark asks, nuzzling at Derek’s nose.</p><p>“No, just ... kind of ticklish.”</p><p>Mark lays his warm palm against Derek’s back, brings more pressure to his touch. “Better?”</p><p>Derek kisses Mark again. “Yeah. That feels good.”</p><p>“And this?” Mark asks, sliding his hands down to cup Derek’s ass.</p><p>Derek nods. “That’s good, too.”</p><p>Mark kisses Derek’s cheek. “Good.” Then, finds his mouth, pressing his lips to Derek’s as he slowly runs the tip of his tongue over Derek’s lower lip. Derek opens his mouth, accepts Mark’s tongue and as Mark leans forward, gently pushing Derek down onto his back, all the while kissing him. Derek puts his hands on either side of Mark’s face, holds him in place, playing the tip of his tongue against Mark’s tongue as Mark slips out of his robe and lays it aside.</p><p>Mark withdraws his tongue from Derek’s mouth, lays kisses on his cheek, his jaw, his throat; makes his way down Derek’s body, kissing his chest, his stomach, pausing to nibble and lick at his navel before moving lower. He kisses his way from the base of Derek’s erect cock to the head before taking him into his mouth.</p><p>Derek sighs his pleasure as Mark laps and sucks at him, stroking his thighs. Then, he hears a drawer glide open, hears the crinkling of what he somehow knows is a condom wrapper. He opens his eyes and looks down. Mark has not stopped sucking his cock, but his hands are busy now, unrolling a condom down over his extended index and middle finger, snapping open the cap of a bottle, pouring glistening lubricant all down the condom.</p><p>“Mark, what are you —” Derek starts.</p><p>Mark brings his head up, lets Derek’s cock out of his mouth with an audible <em>pop</em> that makes Derek shiver. “Relax,” Mark says with a smile. “Lean back.”</p><p>Derek slides back a little and props himself on his elbows. Mark’s hand comes to rest on his chest, and exerts gentle pressure. “Relax.” Derek complies with the implicit command, falling completely back against the mattress again.</p><p>“Spread your legs wider,” Mark instructs. “And pull your knees up a bit.”</p><p>Derek plants his heels on the edge of the bed frame. “What are you —” he tries again. But Mark sucks him into his mouth again, and Derek’s words turn into a hungry moan.</p><p>Derek feels Mark’s condom-wrapped fingers slip behind his balls and trail their way back to his ass. It’s uncomfortable mostly, a wrong feeling rising in him about what he is allowing Mark to do. It begins as a tickle, then morphs into something far more pleasant as Mark’s fingers begin to explore. Derek’s lips part, finally he breathes in, finally filling his lungs, anticipating, hesitating.</p><p>Mark’s head bobs up, his mouth lets go of him. “Relax,” he says again, fingers stroking at his hole.</p><p>Derek lets his breath out in a low whoosh before drawing in another breath, deep into his belly. He gives a long, slow exhale that ends in a stuttering shudder of breath as Mark’s fingers slip inside him. He grits his teeth when there is more pain than pleasure and he hears Mark telling him to breathe out, to breathe as normal, it would hurt less if he lets go, and he lets out the breath he was holding.</p><p>Mark moves his fingers slowly, coaxing him to open up for him. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s good, Derek.” Derek makes timid little moans with every stroke, closing his eyes tight.</p><p>Mark watches him for a few moments, and smiles, dipping his head back down to take Derek into his mouth again.</p><p>Derek hisses in a breath of surprise, lets it out in a long, low, “Mmmm.”</p><p>Mark bobs his head and moves his fingers in a steady rhythm, building Derek up, listening intently as Derek’s mouth drops open and his moans become more forceful. When they reach a crescendo, he gentles his motions, gradually slowing to almost nothing. “Don’t stop,” Derek begs, and Mark begins the process of speeding up again. He quickens his pace until Derek’s moans reach a fever pitch, then drives his fingers deep into him, massages the gland inside as he sucks on his cock as hard as he can.</p><p>Derek’s cum rockets into Mark’s mouth with a force he’s never experienced alone or even with Mark before. His breath locks tight in his chest while his pulse thunders hot in his throat, his face, his temples.</p><p>A twinkling red mist suffuses his vision, then gives way to sparkling electric blue, and bright white stars. His head spins, slides into a falling sensation.</p><p>He finally remembers to breathe, and sucks in air, shuddering all over. He lies on the bed, unable to move, but slowly, very slowly he comes back to himself.</p><p>He hears Mark in the bathroom, washing his hands.</p><p>Then, suddenly, he snaps awake to the sensation of a warm hand caressing his shoulder. He looks over, and there is Mark, grinning with pleasure. “And you finally return back to life,” Mark declares.</p><p>Derek turns his head, looks up at the ceiling, still very much dizzy, but also feeling somehow refreshed. As though he has been filled up with something bright and then drained out, left sparkling. “Yeah,” he breathes. “That was …” he casts about for an appropriate descriptor. “That was <em>phenomenal</em>.”</p><p>“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Mark kisses Derek’s shoulder and then, gets up, offering his hand to Derek.</p><p>Derek takes it and lets Mark hoist him to his feet. Blood rushes back to his head, and he totters, but Mark steadies him, gives him a brief little kiss on the cheek. He up his discarded robe and drapes it over Derek’s shoulders. The fabric settles cool against his skin and he pulls it a bit closer around himself. Mark goes to the closet and retrieves a second robe, this one of seersucker. “You want a drink?” he asks.</p><p>Derek suddenly realises how thirsty he is. “Yeah, definitely,” he answers, following Mark from the bedroom. Mark descends the stairs with fluid grace. Derek follows more slowly, his legs still shaky.</p><p>In the kitchen, Mark takes the jug of iced tea from the refrigerator and pours them both a glass. “What, no gin?” Derek jokes.</p><p>Mark shakes his head. “We could. But I want you to be sober for what I have to ask you next.”</p><p>Derek lowers his glass, regards Mark with some apprehension. “Okay.”</p><p>Mark takes a long drink. “Derek,” he says slowly, “Do you feel ready to go <em>further</em> with me?”</p><p>“Further?”</p><p>Mark nods, fixing Derek with a piercing gaze. “We could stop having ‘<em>not-exactly-sex‘</em>, and start having <em>sex</em> sex. Are you ready to take that step?”</p><p>Derek stares down into his glass, listens for a moment to its fizzing, to the ice clinking against the glass as his hand shakes. He raises it to his lips, taking a long swallow before setting it down on the counter. He licks his lips and say, “You mean ... <em>take</em> my virginity?”</p><p>Mark tilts his head slightly. “I wouldn’t want to think of it as <em>‘taking’.</em> It sounds so one-sided, so selfish.” He takes another drink. “I would like to think it as, if you would like, we can <em>share</em> something together tonight. Something that might have meaning for you. But only if you truly want to.”</p><p>Derek takes a deep breath. “I think ...” he says, “I think I want to.”</p><p>Mark sets his drink down, and crosses over to Derek, taking his hands in his own. “I can’t do this if you <em>think</em> you want to, Derek. I need you to be sure.”</p><p>Derek looks down at their joined hands and licks his lips again. He looks up at Mark, his best friend and maybe more, finds those blue eyes searching and he summons the most confident voice he can and says, “I’m sure.”</p><p>Mark reaches up and cups Derek’s chin. “Sure of what, Derek?”</p><p>Derek leans forward and kisses Mark deeply. “I don’t want to be a virgin anymore, Mark,” he says sweetly before adding, “<em>Please</em>.”</p><p>Mark smiles, kisses Derek back. “Then, come with me.” He takes Derek’s hand and leads him back to his bedroom.</p><p></p><div>
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    <em> <strong>Thanks for reading.</strong> </em>
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    <em> <strong>Its a holiday here so I thought of updating this story.</strong> </em>
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  <p><em><strong>I wanted to give Mark a skill we didn’t know he had, you know other than his charm, ruggedly handsome looks and ... his </strong></em><strong>manwhorish</strong> <em><strong>ways. And I wanted it to be something soft and artsy type, opposite of his exterior self.</strong></em></p>
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    <em> <strong>Also, I wanted to make use of my knowledge on Greek mythology, which I was majorly obsessed with in high school, still fascinated, just as Mark is in this story. And with Derek’s curly hair, it’s only fitting to compare him to a Greek God since in Ancient Greece, curly hair was the height of beauty.</strong> </em>
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    <em> <strong>I hope you enjoyed.</strong> </em>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Down On My Knees, Tears, and the Boy Who Deflowered Him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mark takes Derek to a new stage of his life ... they finally go all the way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em>a little visual reference</em>
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      <span class="u"><em><strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong> </em> </span>
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      <b>5</b>
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  <p> <strong>Down On My Knees, Tears, and the Boy Who Deflowered Him</strong></p>
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</div><p>Mark shuts the bedroom door and wraps his arms around Derek's waist, looking deep into his eyes. "Are you nervous?" he whispers.</p><p>Derek nods.</p><p>Mark grazes the tip of Derek's nose with his own. "That's only normal. It’s your first time. But you are in good hands, Derek. Don’t worry."</p><p>"Oh ... okay," Derek stammers, "What — what do I do?"</p><p>Mark pulls him closer. "You kiss me," he says, gently, "And then, I kiss you, and when you're ready, you'll take off your robe and go to the bed."</p><p>"And ... and then what?" Derek breathes.</p><p>"And then, I'll follow you," Mark answers, leaning his forehead against Derek's. "We'll do something like we just did earlier. I'll slip my fingers inside you, warm you up, get you ready. Would you like that?"</p><p>A warm flush begins to creep over Derek entire body, his face, cheeks. He nods.</p><p>Mark smiles. "Good. Should I tell you what happens next?"</p><p>"Yes," Derek whispers, captivated.</p><p>"I'll wait until you beg me," Mark purrs, "I'll wait until you're sure. And when you beg me, I'll enter you, slowly, gently. You'll take me in, and I'll let you have control. You'll ride me, as fast and as hard as you like, and I'll stay there with you, be there with you, while you take your pleasure. And Derek?" He cups his chin, runs his thumb across Derek’s lower lip. "When you come, I won't tell you to come for me, because when you do, it'll be for yourself. How does that sound?"</p><p>Derek's eyelids flutter. "It sounds ... it sounds like something I want to do."</p><p>"Then, kiss me," Mark whispers.</p><p>Derek tips his head forward and favours Mark with a long, deep kiss. Mark's arms tighten around his waist, holding him close. Derek follows suit, wraps his arms around Mark and they press together, the warmth between them growing. Derek breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath, but Mark's mouth finds his again, quickly, he falls deep into another one.</p><p>Feeling bold, Derek pulls his arms from around Mark's and reaches for the belt of his robe. He unties it, slips his hands inside Mark's robe and caresses his stomach, just like before. Mark breaks the kiss, quivering all the same. Derek continues to run his hands over the smooth skin and tight muscles until Mark is trembling all over, breaths coming in long, avid waves. "Show me ... show me what you want, Derek," Mark pants.</p><p>Derek kisses Mark's neck, withdraws his hands from Mark's skin before untying the belt of his own robe. He slips the cotton from his body, drapes it over a chair, and reaches for Mark's shoulders, sliding the robe away from them as he pulls it away from Mark's body. Mark takes the robe and lays it over the other chair and then, Derek takes his hand and brings him over to the bed.</p><p>Suddenly, shy again, Derek asks, "What do I do now?"</p><p>Mark sits down on the bed, leans over and pulls the bottle of lubricant and another condom from the drawer. He gives Derek's hand a gentle tug. "Come sit next to me," he instructs.</p><p>Derek complies.</p><p>Mark leaves the lubricant and the condom on the bed and then, puts his arms around Derek's shoulders and draws him forward. He kisses his face, his neck, rests his cheek against Derek's, whispering into his ear, "I'd like to touch you. Would you like that?"</p><p>Derek presses his face into the crook of Mark's neck, moving his hands to rest on Mark's hips. "Yeah," he whispers, "Please."</p><p>Mark slides his hands down from Derek's shoulders, skims then across his sides before bringing them to his lap, caressing the ticklish skin along the inside of his thighs. It makes him shiver.</p><p>Stroking his way up, he brushes his fingers up the shaft of Derek's cock. Derek inhales sharply, presses his face deeper into Mark's neck. "More," he whispers.</p><p>Mark teases him, his touch light and easy, just grazing along the skin there. Even under the barest touch, Derek begins to harden. Mark smiles at that.</p><p>Turning his head, he kissed Derek's curls as he firms up his touch, slowly snaking his fingers around Derek's hardening cock. He grips him tight, drawing a breathy little moan from him and begins to stroke him with agonising slowness.</p><p>"More," Derek moans.</p><p>Mark speeds his stroking, bringing Derek fully hard in a matter of seconds. Derek's own hand slips from Mark's hips to his groin, fumbles about for his cock, and when he finds it, he begins to give rhythmic squeezes that soon give way to pumping. Mark gives a little "<em>Mmmf,</em>" of appreciation and redoubles his efforts.</p><p>Derek bites down on the muscle at the base of Mark's neck, drawing a surprised gasp and a little shiver from him. He slackens his jaw, releases Mark's flesh to run his tongue over it instead. Mark gives a guttural groan then, grips Derek more tightly in his hand and that's when Derek gives a little yelp.</p><p>Mark pauses. "Too much?"</p><p>"No. Don't stop," Derek breathes, still pumping Mark, “Please, don't stop."</p><p>Mark goes back to work on Derek, drawing helpless moans from him, all the while Mark begins to moan along with him as Derek continues to stroke him with a desperation that drives Mark wild with desire.</p><p>"More?" Mark gasps.</p><p>Derek gives a long, pitiful moan and slumps back, letting go of Mark as he flops against the mattress and spreads his legs, drawing his knees up as he does. "Please, please," he begs.</p><p>Mark releases Derek from his hand and retrieves the lubricant and condom, prepares as before and then, slipping his fingers inside him.</p><p>His eyes slam shut as Mark presses in, working his fingers in, slow and gentle, making Derek bite his lips on a scream. He undulates on the bed, riding Mark's fingers with enthusiasm, moaning all the while. He clenches his fingers on the covers, knowing he'll come if he touches himself. Throwing his head back, he bites his lip again, hard, trying to keep from screaming with pleasure. But what comes out instead is a low-throaty whine. And Mark strokes himself, keeping pace with Derek's thrusting against his hand.</p><p>Derek trembles with the effort of holding himself back, begins to sweat all over and unable to help himself. Mark leans forward and licks drops of sweat from the insides of Derek's thighs and when he pulls away, Derek chokes himself on his own moan as Mark leans over the bed to take something from the drawer of the end of the table.</p><p>Mark resettles himself between Derek's legs, cups his cheek, rubs a thumb tenderly across his cheekbone, his mouth. His hand slides lower to rest around a neck that already feels bruised from the almost screaming — it'll be livid in the morning — but for now he just lets it rest there without pressure, a promise.</p><p>Derek lets out a high-pitched wail at that moment. "Please," he keens, "Please!"</p><p>"Please what, Derek?" Mark asks, his voice thick and raspy, sugar-filled.</p><p>Derek moans. "Please, Mark ... please fuck me."</p><p>Mark sits back, takes a long breath deep into his belly, removes his trembling hand from his cock and slides his fingers out of Derek, slowly. Derek chokes himself on his own moan as Mark does that, and there’s a momentary sense of loss, suddenly he’s feeing so empty.</p><p>Mark pulls the condom from his fingers, inside-out, and drops it in the waste bin before leaning over the bed to take another from the drawer and unrolling it down his shaft. He pours lubricant and tells Derek, "Get up on your hands and knees."</p><p>Derek pulls himself up onto quivering limbs, panting, dripping with sweat.</p><p>Mark positions himself behind Derek, rubs his back gently with one hand and Derek shivers. Derek then feels the head of a cock nudging against him, up the back of his balls, across his perineum. Mark goes back and back, to rest against Derek's asshole and he lingers there a moment.</p><p>"Please," Derek begs.</p><p>Mark keeps his hand on Derek's back, pulls him in a little. "Lean back," he says. "Go at your own pace. Bring me in."</p><p>Derek breathes deeply, concentrates on relaxing, on the feeling of desire raging hot throughout his body. He eases himself back, slowly, slowly, against the head of Mark's cock. He can feel its warmth, even through the condom.</p><p>Inhaling, he lets the air fill his chest. Exhaling, he rocks back, lets the head of Mark's cock slip inside him. He feels a tingle creep over his whole body and he breathes through it, in and then out again.</p><p>
  <em>In and out. In. Out.</em>
</p><p>Even though he's stretched, it still hurts as Mark's head breaches his body, the sharp pain of skin mingling in his blood with dizzying, aching lust for long moments as he pushes back and back.</p><p>"Just like that, Derek," Mark murmurs. "Slow and easy."</p><p>Derek keeps taking full, deep breaths, creeping back a little further on every exhale, encouraged by Mark's steady hand on his back and his quiet exhortations of, "Good," and, "Yes, like that."</p><p>And then, finally, oh-finally, he holds the full length of Mark's erection inside himself. He remains still except for his panting breath. Swallowing, he whispers, "Now what?"</p><p>Mark's cock is pulsing inside him, hot and thick, sending a wave of pleasure juddering through his body and his breath catches.</p><p>"Now," Mark says, rubbing slow circles on Derek's back, "You ride me. Go slowly, at first."</p><p>Derek rocks forward a tiny bit, then back. "It feels ... it feels so good," he breathes.</p><p>"Yeah," Mark says. "Good. Keep going."</p><p>Derek moves forward again, slowly, until about half of Mark's cock is out of him, then rocks back, moaning at the feeling of Mark filling him up, pressing against the gland inside.</p><p>He begins to rock a bit faster at that.</p><p>"Mmm, yes," Mark sighs as Derek's ass slides up and down his cock. "Yes, Derek, yes."</p><p>Derek's breath comes harder as he speeds up, up until he is no longer gently rocking back, but truly riding Mark's cock. Mark slides his hand down from Derek's back to his bouncing ass, resisting the urge to slap it. "Derek," he moans, "That feels so good."</p><p>Derek's moans become longer and higher as he takes Mark deeper inside himself, practically slams his ass against Mark's hips. Mark hangs on, shaking all over, now just as sweat-drenched as Derek. "Oh, fucking hell, please," Mark begs, "Please, Derek, I wanna fuck you. Please."</p><p>"Mmm," Derek groans, "Fuck me! Please!"</p><p>With a long moan, Mark grabs onto Derek's hips and drives deep into him. Derek pitches forward with the force of Mark's bucking, collapsing onto his forearms with his ass in the air. He grabs a pillow and screams into it, letting its softness muffle his cries of pleasure.</p><p>Mark slows, then. "Am I hurting you, Derek?" he asks.</p><p>Derek turns his head away from the pillow, gasping out his reply, "No. No. Keep going. Please. Don't stop."</p><p>Mark works back up to his previous pace, spurred on by Derek's stifled screaming, barely containing the urge to give himself up entirely, to pound into Derek's ass with fevered fury.</p><p>"Yes," Derek says, "Yes, yes, fuck —" the rest of it is lost on a strangled yell as Mark shoves in.</p><p>Derek wants all of him. He works his hips against Mark's, meeting every pounding thrust until the slapping of skin drowns out the faint, tinny sound of music in the distance.</p><p>Mark growls but doesn't stop him, does arch into the feeling, doesn’t stop fucking into Derek like he's trying to rip him open and crawl into his skin.</p><p>Derek reaches his hand up from under the pillow and begins jerking himself off mercilessly. His screams are coming faster, becoming a chorus of sharp yelps. Mark's head goes absolutely dizzy at the sound, and he loses control, plunges into Derek, coming in long, deep spurts. Derek gives one final scream that slowly dies away to a groan as cum splatters onto his chest, his neck, the bedsheets, the pillow.</p><p>Mark slips out of Derek and collapses next to him, lying on his back as Derek slowly sinks down to lie on his side. Mark listens to his breath, coming in ragged gasps that soon begin to hitch and tremble.</p><p>At the first sound of his sob, Mark shoots upright, puts a hand on Derek's shoulder.</p><p>"Derek?" he says, panicked. "Are you all right?"</p><p>"I'm f-fine," Derek gulps, rubbing at his eyes, "Really, I'm ... that was …" He takes a deep, steadying breath. "It was ... <em>intense</em>."</p><p>Mark massages Derek's shoulder, pressing a kiss there. "Yeah, it was," he murmurs, "The first time always is." He sighs. "Are you sure you're all right?"</p><p>Derek nods, rubs his eyes again. "I'm okay," he sniffles, "Really. I promise." He rolls over onto his back, his tears giving way to a dreamy smile. "I'm ... I'm perfect." His eyes flit over to meet Mark’s. "That was really great."</p><p>Mark leans over and lays a kiss on Derek's lips. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Derek." He smooths sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. "Would you like to take a shower with me?"</p><p>Derek rubs absently at his arm. "I ... sure," he says. "Yeah."</p><p>Mark gets up from the bed, pulls the condom from his cock and drops it in the waste bin. He beckons to Derek with a gentle smile. "Come with me," he says.</p><p>Derek gets up and follows him to the bathroom.</p><hr/><p>Mark sets the water temperature to Derek's liking, and lets him have the first turn under the stream. As Derek closes his eyes and luxuriates in the warm water, Mark watches the rivulets course down his body. He gives an appreciative smile, taking up a cloth and lifts a sweet-smelling bar of soap to his nose briefly and reaches around Derek to wet the cloth, lathering it with soap.</p><p>"Here," he says to Derek, stroking a hand down his back.</p><p>Derek opens his eyes and reaches for the cloth.</p><p>Mark smiles, shaking his head. "Let me," he insists.</p><p>"Oh. Okay," Derek agrees and he steps out from under the stream of water.</p><p>Mark swabs Derek's shoulders with the soaped-up cloth with utmost care, massaging into the muscle as he does so. Derek gives a little groan of appreciation. Mark lingers over his shoulders for a moment before moving lower, pressing the cloth to his back muscles and rubbing in lazy circles.</p><p>"That feels really good," Derek groans, eyes slipping closed.</p><p>"Good," Mark answers.</p><p>Mark scrubs the full of Derek's back, his sides, his arms, re-wetting and re-lathering the cloth as needed. He takes especial care with Derek's hands, taking them between his palms and massaging gently, then rubbing down the length of each finger in turn. He makes his way back up Derek's arms, slides hands and cloth down his spine, then kneels and begins working on his ass and working his way down his legs, lifting his feet like a ferrier shoeing a particularly fine stallion and massages them with the same care as he'd taken with his hands. He turns him and scrubs his chest, his stomach, gently cradling his cock and balls, and washes them with care.</p><p>Mark stands again, leaning in to murmur in Derek's ear, "Would you like me to wash your hair?"</p><p>Derek nods, too lost in the depths of relaxation to speak.</p><p>Mark rinses the cloth and hangs it on the rack at the rear of the shower. He reaches around Derek and retrieves a bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his hand. He begins at the crown of his head, working the liquid into a foam, pushing his fingers through the wet locks that are already beginning to curl again. Derek groans pure pleasure as Mark scrubs deep against his scalp. Mark smiles to himself, continues to knead at Derek's scalp until his groans die away to deep, rhythmic breaths and his head lolls back.</p><p>Mark chuckles. "Let's rinse, before you fall down" he suggests.</p><p>Derek turns his back to the stream, leans his head back into the water. He lets Mark run his fingers through his hair, making sure the last traces of lather wash away, the water coursing down his body.</p><p>Mark gently pulls Derek out from under the water again, takes a bottle of conditioner, applies it to his hair, smoothing it through his curls as he runs his hands over and over Derek's hair, unable to get enough of the slick, springy texture.</p><p>Derek gives a deep, contented sigh and opens his eyes. "Do you want a turn? I could, uh, I could wash you. If you want."</p><p>"I would like that very much, Derek," Mark answers.</p><p>Mark and Derek slip past each other to switch places. Mark stands under the warm water, wets his entire body, steps back so that the stream falls only on his chest. Derek takes up another cloth, lathers it, begins to gently wash Mark's body. He mimics Mark's earlier motions, massaging as he makes his way down Mark's back, his ass, his legs.</p><p>"Good, Derek," Mark purrs. "That's very nice.”</p><p>Derek blooms with pride, gently turns Mark to face him, continues his ministrations. He pauses when he comes to Mark's cock, looks up to find Mark's blue eyes watching him. "Do you ... do you want me to, um …?"</p><p>Mark reaches down, slips his fingers beneath Derek's chin and tips his face up. "Oh, Derek," he says. "I may have drained me for tonight." He smiles. "And we're going to run out of hot water soon."</p><p>Derek's mouth quirks into a lopsided grin. "Then, I guess we better rinse off and get out of here."</p><p>"Yup." Mark takes Derek's hand and brings him to his feet.</p><p>They rinse quickly, take turns towelling each other off, rubbing each other down with the same intimate care as with their washing. Derek shyly avoids meeting his gaze, but can't keep a smile from creeping across his face.</p><p>Mark takes both towels and hangs them up to dry, covers up a yawn with the back of his hand. "It must be quite late," he says, turning to Derek.</p><p>Derek nods. "Yeah."</p><p>"Your mom knows your staying the night, right?"</p><p>Nodding, "I told her we'd hang out. Watch a movie." he says.</p><p>Mark glides over and takes Derek's hand. "Good. Come on. Let's get some sleep."</p><p>Mark stops at the linen closet on the way back to the bedroom, hands fresh sheets and pillowcases to Derek, taking a clean blanket into his arms. They strip away the cum-stained bedsheets and replace them, then slip into bed.</p><p>Derek sighs at the feel of fresh sheets against his freshly-showered skin, at the warmth of the body spooned up against his, at the languor dragging him down into sleep. Just as contentment begins to settle in his chest, something deeper blooms around it, swallows it up, and for a moment he thinks he might cry again.</p><p>He can't remember the last time he felt so happy.</p><hr/><p>
  <em> <strong>Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. It’s my birthday today (hopefully 24 will be good to me but I find that unlikely. Haha!) so this debauchery is a treat for you all, and also for Derek and Mark! ;);)</strong></em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Croque-Madame, Babysitters, and the Dog Name Heidi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After their passionate night together, Derek and Mark spends the afternoon together with Amy. Mark and Amy have an important conversation.<br/>(No sexy time in this chapter folks)<br/>Still, enjoy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <em><strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong> </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>6</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Croque-Madame, Babysitters, and the Dog Name Heidi</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Derek rubs his eyes, yawning as he turns over in bed to find Mark watching him.</p><p>“Good morning,” Mark says, blue eyes twinkling down at him.</p><p>“Morning,” Derek returns, stifling another yawn. “Is it even still morning?”</p><p>Mark nods. “Barely, though.” He reaches over and brushes a stray curl from Derek’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Derek shifts and stretches his legs. “Uh ... a little sore,” he admits.</p><p>Mark frowns. “Hmm, I hope I wasn’t too rough with you last night.”</p><p>“No,” Derek assures him hastily, “No, it’s fine. I was ... it was …” he sighs, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “It was perfect.”</p><p>Mark gives him a sleepy smile. “Good. And how are you otherwise?”</p><p>Derek runs a hand through his hair. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I mean mentally, emotionally.” Mark levers himself up on one elbow. “The first time you lose your virginity can be a roller coaster of emotions. One day, you’re fine. Next day, you have sex. The day after that, you’re a different person — What I mean is that it’s a very emotional experience.”</p><p>Derek rolls over onto his back, drums his fingers on his chest, considering whether he feels any different now that he’s no longer a virgin, in some important way. He shifts his eyes to meet Mark’s. “I don’t know,” he says.</p><p>Mark nods. “That’s not surprising. These things can take time. But you’ll let me know if you have any difficulty with this, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Derek agrees, “Yeah, I will.”</p><p>“Good.” Mark sits up and stretches, “You wanna have breakfast with me?” he asks.</p><p>Derek suddenly realises just how hungry he is. His stomach grumbling. “Yeah, I’m starving.”</p><p>“And no wonder,” Mark says with a sly grin as he climbs over Derek. “You exerted yourself quite a bit last night.”</p><p>Derek huffs out a little laugh. “I exerted myself? What about you?”</p><p>“It was a big night for both of us.” Mark reaches down and takes Derek’s hand. “Come on,” he insists, “Let me make you breakfast.”</p><hr/><p>For someone who claims to not know how to cook, Mark makes pretty amazing croque-madame.</p><p>He readies the poached eggs, topping them on top of the grilled cheese and ham sandwich. He then cuts up bananas and peaches and strawberries and drizzles them with honey. Derek accepts a generously laden plate and, despite his attempts at restraint, plows through his food. Mark smiles over the rim of his coffee cup and rises from the table, returning to the stove.</p><p>Derek blinks. “Where are you going?”</p><p>Mark turns the heat on under the pan again. He opens the refrigerator and takes out more eggs and cheese. “Making you another,” he answers.</p><p>“But you haven’t even started yours,” Derek points out.</p><p>Mark smiles over his shoulder. “Derek,” he says, “you are my guest, my best friend and now my lover. Let me dote on you.”</p><p>Derek blushes down at his empty plate and watches as Mark goes to the refrigerator for more eggs and cheese and ham.</p><p>“How do you know about <em>la petit mort </em>and just everything?” he asks, carefully trying not to butcher the French. But, ugh, it sounds so awful and wrong coming out of his mouth.</p><p>He refrains himself from asking how he’s so good at ... sex</p><p>“You remember Cassie?” Mark says over his shoulder, “My babysitter when I was like nine.”</p><p>“Cassie? Oh. Yeah. She was ho —”</p><p>“You can say it. She was hot.”</p><p>“What about her?”</p><p>Mark turns around to face him, hands on the counter behind him as he thinks of what to say. “Well, she goes by Bambi at night.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Derek is so confused and it must have shown on his face because Mark chuckles and says, “She’s a prostitute, Derek.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>
  <em>Prostitute.</em>
</p><p>Mark’s parents mustn’t have known that because they wouldn’t have hired her if they knew. <em>Right? </em>They’re neglectful but — come on, they can’t that aloof. He doesn’t want to call them bad parents because it’s not his place and Mr. and Mrs. Sloan are nice to him, they’re just so occupied with their own careers that they don’t even see anything and anyone else, but they sure are somewhere on the list.</p><p>“She had sex with you?”</p><p>“No. No. Not her. Her friend did.” he says, nonchalantly like it was no big deal.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Cassie picked me up from gymnastics one time and she took me to where she worked to get her paycheque. I didn’t know what that place was at that time. But a lot of them would babysit during the day and you know, at night,” Mark explains, “After that one time, she took me there a lot more often. There were a few other kids there too, not just me. There was another boy there. My age ...” he says, passing Derek his second helping, “Her name was Coco. I don’t know what her real name is. The boy and I — we were playing and she came to us one day, said she had something important to show us and yeah, she <em>took</em> our virginity.”</p><p>Derek makes a face like he’s shocked and disgusted all at the same time, “You were nine, Mark.”</p><p>“So? I wanted it.“</p><p>“But, but — That’s still illegal — you were just a kid.”</p><p>“Well, my parents shouldn’t have left me alone in the first place. It’s been eight years. It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Mark says, shutting down their conversation altogether.</p><p>Shrugging, “I guess not.” he says.</p><p>Derek can’t help but think that it might have scarred him more than he’s letting on. But he lets it go like Mark wanted him to and looks down at his plate. He’s suddenly lost his appetite, but he’ll have to eat the second helping Mark had prepared for him; he doesn’t want to disappoint Mark.</p><p>He’s been disappointed his entire life.</p><p>He takes greater care with the second helping, takes his time spearing each bite, chews more slowly, takes in the full flavour of simple food made elegant by expert preparation.</p><p>They sit in silence, still don’t talk about what he’d just told him.</p><p>Finally sated, he leans back with a sigh and finds Mark watching him. “What?” he asks gently, another blush creeping into his cheeks.</p><p>Mark tilts his head gracefully, a little shrug. “I like watching you eat.”</p><p>“Well,” Derek says, pondering how to phrase his thoughts. He says simply, “You’re a really good cook, Mark.” His eyes flit down, then back up. “Among other things.”</p><p>Mark sips coffee. “I’m so glad you enjoy the things we <em>share</em> together, Derek,” he says and smiles up over the rim of his cup. “I enjoy them too.” He puts his cup down and fixes Derek with a searching gaze.</p><p>Derek gulps and Mark softens a little. “You wanna spend the day together?” he asks.</p><p>Derek opens his mouth, closed it before he nods. “I do. Really.” His eyes flits up. “But I have to look after Amy today.”</p><p>“Oh,” Mark leans back, his posture relaxed, considering, “Well, I could come around. Throw some ball with Amy like old times.”</p><p>Derek brightens. “Yeah? You wouldn’t mind her being around? You know she can be really annoying.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Mark says with a gentle shake of his head. “I’ll take annoying little sister to being alone at home any day.”</p><p>“Then, maybe we can meet up in a little bit and do something. We could go to the park. Does that sound okay?”</p><p>Mark gives Derek a dreamy smile. “It sounds nice. Give me an hour?”</p><p>Derek nods. “Sure.” He looks around the kitchen, then. “You, uh, you want help cleaning up or anything?”</p><p>“No,” Mark says. “Go ahead.” He comes around to Derek’s side and gives him a brief kiss. “I’ll see you in an hour.”</p><hr/><p>Amy bounds from the car with glee, her excitement nearly as great as Heidi’s, their black Newfoundland puppy, who isn’t so much a puppy anymore. She begins to dash away, but stops short and looks back over her shoulder when Derek calls after her warningly, “Amy! If you fall and hurt yourself, Mom’s gonna kill me!”</p><p>“Hurry up,” she urges her brother and his best friend from the car, “I wanna go to the playground!”</p><p>“Let me lock up first,” Derek says, “Can you take Heidi?”</p><p>“Yup,” Amy chirps, accepting the leash. “Heidi, down.” The dog obeys, lies beside her with pert ears and wagging tail, waiting for the next command. When Derek locks the car and gives her a nod, Amy gives the leash a tug and says, “Okay, let’s go!”</p><p>Heidi pops up immediately, and he and Amy trot towards the playground. Derek and Mark follow behind at a more sedate pace, and when they catch up, Amy hands over the leash to her brother and bounds away to the swings. Mark folds himself neatly onto a bench, and Derek flops down beside him. Heidi turns in a circle and settles near Derek’s feet.</p><p>Mark and Derek take turns entertaining Heidi and minding Amy and talking about anything and everything. Eventually, Derek looks at his watch, takes up the leash, and calls Amy over. “Time to hit the next stop,” he says.</p><p>Amy gives a dramatic pout.</p><p>“I gotta take Heidi to the dog park,” Derek explains over Amy’s pleas. “It’s her turn, Amy. If we still have time later, we’ll come back. Now, come on.”</p><p>“But I wanna stay here, Derek. <em>Pleaseeee</em>,” Amy whines.</p><p>“Amy,” Derek says tersely, “I can’t leave you alone here. It’s not safe.”</p><p>“Please, Derek. Please. <em>Pleaseeeee</em>”</p><p>“I can stay with her,” Mark offers.</p><p>Amy looks from Mark to Derek, now hopeful.</p><p>“You don’t mind?” Derek asks Mark, shifting the leash in his hand. “She can be a handful but you already know that.”</p><p>“Hey! I’m telling Mom.” Amy continues pouting.</p><p>Mark chuckles, ruffling her hair a little. “Not at all.”</p><p>“Well,” Derek says hesitantly, “If you’re sure …”</p><p>Mark looks down at Amy and this time she looks up at him and smile. “Go ahead, Derek. We’ll be fine together.”</p><p>Once her brother has disappeared over the hill, Amy fixes Mark with a curious gaze, eyes frank and innocent. “What are you and my brother doing?” she asks bluntly.</p><p>Mark gazes back, inscrutable. “Nothing. What do you mean? He’s my best friend.” he says. “We spend time together.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know that,” Amy says, brushing hair away from her face, “But what are you <em>really</em> doing?”</p><p>Mark gives her a minute shrug. <em>Did she saw them kissing in Derek’s bedroom? </em>“Like I said, we spend time together.”</p><p>“Are you his boyfriend?” Amy chirps.</p><p>“Is that what Derek is saying?” Mark asks in a neutral tone, with a long, lazy blink.</p><p>Amy shakes her head. “No. Derek is acting weird around you. He looks at you differently. But it’d be okay if you were boyfriends.”</p><p>An amused grin appears briefly on Mark’s face. “It would?”</p><p>Amy nods emphatically. “Yeah. I like you, Mark.”</p><p>Mark leans forward, bringing his face level with hers, and gives her a smile. “I like you too, Amy.” He straightens again. “You want me to be your brother’s boyfriend?”</p><p>Amy nods. “Yeah. He likes you a lot, and you’re really nice to him. People aren’t nice to Derek, in school, you know. He’s been sad since <em>Dad</em> ...” Amy pauses and Mark puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.</p><p>Mark does know that. It’s been four years since Mr. Shepherd had been killed and Derek still have not fully recovered from the trauma of witnessing his father’s murder.</p><p>He probably won’t, ever.</p><p>“And then, Meredith moved to Seattle.” Her wide eyes latch onto Mark’s. “He’s been sad for a really long time, but when you’re around he’s happy.”</p><p>Mark makes a small sound of interest. “I’m glad I can bring Derek some happiness.” He pauses, weighs something in his mind and say matter-of-factly, “He makes me happy too.”</p><p>Amy flaps her arms and declares, “Then, you should be boyfriends!”</p><p>Mark chuckles. “You don’t have to be in a relationship to share happiness, Amy. It can be shared freely. Like, see, you also make me happy.”</p><p>Amy’s arms drop. “Does that mean you don’t want to be his boyfriend?”</p><p>“No,” Mark says simply, “It means that I don’t <em>need</em> to be his boyfriend. There’s a difference.”</p><p>“But you do want to?”</p><p>Mark stands. “What I want is to think about it first. Derek is a complicated person. Now,” he offers a hand to her, “we should go and find him, okay? Maybe we can convince him to stop for ice cream on the way home.”</p><p>Amy squints up at Mark. “Are you trying to bribe me?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark answers.</p><p>Amy considers, chewing on her lower lip and takes Mark’s hand. “Okay.” She starts to walk towards the dog park, but stops short. “Will you tell me, if you do decide to be his boyfriend?” she asks.</p><p>Mark gives her hand a squeeze. “I will.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em> <strong>Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed this little chapter. Derek and Mark are taking a little break with the whole sexy time. Haha!</strong> </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Other Friends, Mathletes, and the Words of a Broken Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trouble in paradise leads to a journey into hostile territory, where Derek meets his frenemy.<br/>(bobbiejelly, do you know who this frenemy is? ;) )</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"><em><strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p></p><div class="userstuff module">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p>
      <b>7</b>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Other Friends, Mathletes, and the Words of a Broken Heart</strong>
  </p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Derek lounges against the edge of the bed, enjoying the feel of Mark's arm draped casually around his shoulders.</p>
  <p>"So," he ventures, "Mom is taking Amy for a ballet audition this weekend in the City. It's like this huge deal ballet school or whatever and she's taking Lizzie with her to see New York City and Kathleen will be staying at her friend's house and umm ..."</p>
  <p>"And?" Mark asks.</p>
  <p>"And," Derek continues, now turns his head toward Mark, "And, maybe we could, if you wanna like ... I dunno — do <em>something</em>?"</p>
  <p>Mark squeezes Derek's shoulder. "I ... can’t this weekend, Derek." he says.</p>
  <p>"Oh. Okay,” Derek frowns visibly, "What are you, um …" he begins, “Why?”</p>
  <p>"I'll be travelling," Mark answers.</p>
  <p>"With your parents?"</p>
  <p><em>That's nice</em>, he thinks to himself. Not for himself, of course, because he'll be alone at home, but for Mark since he’ll be spending time with his parents.</p>
  <p>“Umm ...” Mark hesitates, and that’s when Derek's posture stiffens. "With a friend, actually." he says finally.</p>
  <p>"Oh. I didn't …" Derek stammers, taken aback. "I did not know you had other <em>friends</em>."</p>
  <p>The word<em> 'friend' </em>skirl loud in his mind.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Friend! Friend! Friend!!</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Who is this friend?</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Is it one of the guys from football?</em>
  </p>
  <p>He knows Mark has other friends, who aren’t his friends, but he only knows himself to be Mark's friend ... best friend.</p>
  <p>Mark slowly slips his arm from around Derek's shoulders, regarding him for a long moment. "Derek," he starts, his tone low and gentle, careful even, "you're not the only one I’ve been spending my time with."</p>
  <p>Derek's brows draw together and he feels his chest sink to his stomach. "I — I know that," he lies.</p>
  <p>He doesn't want to admit that it kind of really hurts his heart when Mark said that he was not the only one.</p>
  <p>"I just …" but he can't contain himself any longer, so he bursts out, stepping away from Mark. Their proximity is making him nauseous. "Who is it?"</p>
  <p>Mark just tilts his head. "Why the interrogation, Derek?"</p>
  <p>Nonchalant. Not affronted. Not defensive. Just amusement.</p>
  <p><em>Ugh</em>, he pulls at his hair. It irritates him, Mark’s lack of emotion and reaction.</p>
  <p>Derek casts about for an answer he does not want to give.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Mine. Because I stupidly thought I was different to you. Because I thought you were mine and I was yours.</em>
  </p>
  <p>Mark's leonine gaze stabs into Derek. "Her name is Addison," he says, all calm and casual.</p>
  <p>Derek balks, scoffing. "Addison?" he exclaims.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Addison.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Pretty, redhead, bitchy Addison Montgomery.</em>
  </p>
  <p>"You know her?" Mark asks, seems oddly unsurprised that he knows her.</p>
  <p>"I ... yeah," Derek splutters. "She's the worst!"</p>
  <p>He met her three years ago in an Interstate Mathletics competition. She had beat his winning strike by one point and won first place. He hated her because every year since second grade he’s the one who’s been taking home the trophy. And it was his first competition without his father cheering him on.</p>
  <p>Mark quirks a brow. "If that's what you think, then I don’t think you know her at all."</p>
  <p>Derek draws away from Mark, spins around to shout at him. "<em>You</em> don't even know her! She's ... she's …" He cannot think of a denunciation that won't cross a line.</p>
  <p>A sudden thought occurs to him, then. His eyes narrows at Mark, gaze venomous. "Are you <em>fucking</em> her?"</p>
  <p>Mark sits back, appearing perfectly comfortable. "Derek," he says, his tone firm. "Does it matter if I am?"</p>
  <p>Running his fingers roughly through his curls, Derek gets to his feet again. "I can't believe you," he spits, though it's so very Mark to do this to every girl he fools. He fucks them and then, fucks them over. He's seen it time and time again but he just thought it'd be different with him.</p>
  <p>He shakes his head, utterly dumbfounded. "Why are you telling me this?" he accuses.</p>
  <p>The muscles just under Mark's eyes tense almost imperceptibly, jaws clenching tight. "You wanted to know," he answers simply, "Do you want to know more?"</p>
  <p>Scoffing, Derek's hands fidget. <em>The audacity!</em> "What are you ... why are you doing this to me? I let you —" he stops himself before he can say anything further.</p>
  <p>Mark's dark eyes flash, glacier-cold. "Maybe, Derek, you shouldn’t demand answers which you're not prepared for."</p>
  <p>Derek's head reels. He cannot keep his thoughts still enough to examine them, cannot find the words to express them, cannot even understand them fully as thoughts. They’re loud shrill in his head and he needs to expel them. He only knows he’s feeling very angry, so very furious, and hurt, and embarrassed. And he hates Mark for making him feel this way.</p>
  <p>"Fuck you!" he bursts out. "How could you do this to me!"</p>
  <p>Mark stands. "Derek —" he begins, as if indulging a child. “You’re overreacting —“</p>
  <p>It’s then that Derek rockets forward, shoving Mark. Mark takes this in stride, bending like a willow, gracefully accepting the force of Derek's little violence. "Fuck you! I’m not overreacting! You played me! You don’t care about me!" Derek shouts again, flinging an arm towards the door. "Get out of my fucking room!" he yells, so close to tears. "Get out of my house!"</p>
  <p>And that's when his mom burst into his room, the door slamming hard into the opposite wall with a resounding thud. "Derek!" she says sternly, "You will not speak that language in this house! Not under my roof!"</p>
  <p>He turns to look at his mom, then, at Mark, who's looking down at the ground — <em>that asshole! </em>— then back at his mother before looking down at the ground himself.</p>
  <p>"What's going on with the two of you? You were alright just downstairs."</p>
  <p>They were. He was happy. Mark was making him laugh and they were arguing about which Michael Jackson song — “Billie Jean” or “Thriller” — was better with Kathleen and Lizzie. He was feeling amazing and now, everything is ruined.</p>
  <p>"Nothing." he answers, quickly. Doesn't give Mark the chance to answer first. Doesn’t tell his mother the truth.</p>
  <p>He can't.</p>
  <p>"Mark," his mom turn towards the sandy blonde boy who <em>used</em> to be his lover and best friend, when his heart wasn’t broken, "Do you want to stay and work this out with Derek?" she asks.</p>
  <p>"If Derek wants me to —"</p>
  <p>"I don’t." he cuts him off, crosses his arms around his chest, looking anywhere but at Mark.</p>
  <p>"I should get going, then. Thank you for having me." Mark collects his things, turning towards the door and he watches as they flow down the stairs without a word.</p>
  <p>A few minutes later, after he sees Mark leave from his bedroom window, he hears his mother’s footfalls creeping closer and closer. He knows he'll be facing her wrath. "What happened, Derek? I’ve never seen you two fight like that before.”</p>
  <p>“Nothing happened, Mom.” he groans.</p>
  <p>“Is it about a girl?” she asks and he rolls his eyes.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Yeah. But only not really. The girl ruined everything.</em>
  </p>
  <p>“No, Mom.”</p>
  <p>“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” she counters.</p>
  <p>“I don’t wanna talk to you.”</p>
  <p>For several long minutes, his mother stands there, waiting. But what she doesn’t know is that he won’t break, he won’t tell her a thing. He’s good at not talking. “Since your dad died —“</p>
  <p>“Don’t!” he shouts, “I don’t wanna talk about dad! Why are you even bringing him up?” he looks at her all pained expression, confused and furious, nostrils flaring as he breathes hard.</p>
  <p>
    <em>What does this have to do with his father?</em>
  </p>
  <p>“You don’t want to talk to anyone since your dad died. You don’t want to talk to your teachers. You don’t want to talk Dr. Campbell. You don’t want to talk to me. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried about you, Derek.”</p>
  <p>
    <em>Don’t.</em>
  </p>
  <p>He doesn’t need to talk to anyone.</p>
  <p>“Derek.” she says, resting a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugs away.</p>
  <p>Again, he keeps her hanging, ignores his mother as she waits for him to say something. “Fine. Just know that I’m here if you need me,” she says, “But when we get back from Amy’s audition, you will be grounded for a whole month."</p>
  <p>He doesn't say anything else to his mother. He doesn't even bother acknowledging her, just sits at his desk, watching happy people about their lives.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>In the wake of Mark's departure, a vacuum of absence opens up, pulling the anger out of Derek and leaving him empty.</p>
  <p>He had thrown a tantrum.</p>
  <p>The very fact brings upon his embarrassment, and then his anger, roaring back. His face goes hot. He wants to hit something, throw something or fall into a real tantrum, like a toddler.</p>
  <p>His eyes prickle and burn. His throat tightens around an animalistic sound of grief and he lets tears fall down his cheeks.</p>
  <p><em>It hurts</em>, is all he can describe this new feeling. He's been rejected plenty, so he's not new to the notion, but it had never hurt this bad before.</p>
  <p>His heart had shattered to pieces. Literally.</p>
  <p>From the door, "Derek?" Amy, curious. "Why were you yelling?"</p>
  <p>"I wasn't —" Derek snaps at his little sister before gentling his voice. "I was not yelling."</p>
  <p>"But I heard you," Amy protests, "You said a bad word. Three times." When this fails to get a rise out of her older brother, she looks around the room. "Were you guys fighting? I heard Mom tell him not to come over for a while." she says.</p>
  <p>Fear hits Derek like a punch in the stomach. He's sent Mark away. He blanches at the thought of never seeing Mark for the rest of the summer, and pushes past his little sister and goes thundering down the stairs.</p>
  <p>"Derek!" she calls after him, irritated that her brother hadn't even answered any of her questions.</p>
  <p>"Derek!" It's his mother's turn now, "Where do you think you're going?" she asks with a hand on her hip as he quickly puts on his shoes.</p>
  <p>"Out." he calls back, sliding to the front door and flinging it open.</p>
  <p>He starts sprinting the second he steps out of the house and runs down the street, looks up and down the street for any signs of Mark.</p>
  <p><em>Nothing</em>.</p>
  <p>He suddenly remembers that Mark came by on a motorcycle, so he could be at his home by now.</p>
  <p>He decides to run ten blocks to Mark's house.</p>
  <p>Derek's limbs are screaming and sore by the time he reaches Mark's street, every nerve a-twang as his muscles fight between the urge to flee or to forge forward. He slows down now, catching his breath. The walk to his house seems to take years, feels like crawling across a desert. But there is no oasis at the end of this crawl, only hostile territory.</p>
  <p>Derek drags himself up the porch, pushes the doorbell with a trembling finger. His heart gallops breathlessly as he waits; it leaps right up his throat at the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He steels himself to apologise, opens his mouth as the door swings wide, and stammers out, "I — oh."</p>
  <p>Not Mark. Instead, the beautiful face of Mrs. Sloan. "Oh, hello, Derek." Her smile crinkles the corners of her eyes.</p>
  <p>"Where's Mark?" Derek blurts out. Then, ashamed at his rudeness, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sloan. Sorry, I just. Umm, is Mark here?"</p>
  <p>She shakes her head. "No. I haven't seen him all day. I thought he was with you."</p>
  <p>"N — no. Uh ... I guess I'll ... I'll just call him," Derek finishes lamely. He feels his bottom lip tremble. He wants to cry. Then, he remembers his manners and says, "Thank you, Mrs. Sloan. Have a nice day."</p>
  <p>She beams. "You too, Derek."</p>
  <p>Derek trudges from the porch back to the sidewalk as the door shuts behind him. He stands there, lost, looking out into the neighbourhood, his heart aching.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Derek stews in his room for the entire weekend, leaving only to use the bathroom or retrieve food from the fridge. His mother have thoughtfully left various covered dishes to sustain him. He eats them cold, staring at the window to see if Mark would stop by, knowing that he'd be alone at home.</p>
  <p>He doesn't. Not Friday nor Saturday.</p>
  <p>He's not mad. Not anymore, at least. He's hurt.</p>
  <p>He leaves the blinds closed. He barely sleeps.</p>
  <p>Just after midnight, as Sunday eases into Monday, his phone rings. He picks it up, suspicious because this is how all horror movies starts. Looking at the caller ID, his breath stops.</p>
  <p>Mark's number. Mark's calling.</p>
  <p>"Mark." he says into the receiver.</p>
  <p>"There's only one way we fix this," Mark says, "Meet me outside in ten minutes."</p>
  <p>Derek freezes. He does not want to fight Mark, does not know if he even can. But he cannot do anything but obey. He slips into pants and a t-shirt, pulls on a pair of sneakers without socks, lumbers down the stairs and out the door into the muggy night.</p>
  <p>On the street in front of his house, Mark sits astride a sporty, Japanese-made motorcycle, helmet in hand and another tucked under his arm.</p>
  <p>Derek's jaw drops. "What?"</p>
  <p>"Come with me," Mark commands.</p>
  <p>Derek points a thumb over his shoulder, back toward the house. "I have to lock up," he says.</p>
  <p>"Quickly," Mark allows.</p>
  <p>Derek jogs back inside, retrieves his keys and steps back onto the porch, locking the door behind him.</p>
  <p>Timidly, he then approaches Mark, heart hammering in his throat.</p>
  <p>"Here," Mark says, offering a helmet, "Put this on."</p>
  <p>"Where are we —"</p>
  <p>"Derek."</p>
  <p>It's not exactly a warning but he stops talking, nevertheless.</p>
  <p>Derek dons the helmet and climbs onto the motorcycle behind Mark. He hesitates for a moment, but the second the engine comes to life, he throws his arms around Mark and hangs on tight.</p>
  <p>As they begin crossing over to Connecticut territory, Derek suspects he knows where they are headed. The closer they draw to their destination, the surer he becomes. He has never been to the Montgomery house, but he knows she's from Connecticut.</p>
  <p>It is more manor than house. High walls, stately gates. Night watchman in his guardhouse at the bottom of the drive. Mark exchanges a few words with the watchman, and the gates open. Derek hangs on as they motor up the hill. Mark parks the motorcycle in the circular drive before the front doors, and pulls off his helmet. Derek follows suit.</p>
  <p>A ghost comes out to meet them. Some diaphanous thing in a floor-length white satin dressing gown, a study in ivory, crowned in impossibly well-coiffed red hair. <em>It</em> glides out the front door and down to the drive, and Derek catches a glimpse of slender bare feet. He cannot quite bring himself to gaze upon <em>its</em> face. Perhaps he will turn to stone if he does.</p>
  <p>"Addison," Mark greets <em>it</em>.</p>
  <p>"Mark," <em>it</em> returns. "And who is this you've brought?"</p>
  <p>
    <em>She doesn't remember him?</em>
  </p>
  <p>Mark's hand exerts warm, steadying pressure on Derek's back, just between his shoulder blades. "I think he can speak for himself."</p>
  <p>"You don't remember me?"</p>
  <p><em>It</em> squints at him briefly before <em>it</em> speaks, "Should I?"</p>
  <p>He looks at her. She looks a lot different than he remembers. Taller and prettier and fuller. It was three years ago he last saw her, so of course she would grow into her features.</p>
  <p>"I guess not," he says. "I'm Derek. Derek Shepherd."</p>
  <p>"I'm Addison," she says, "Now that we have formally introduced ourselves, come on in, Derek Shepherd."</p>
  <p>Derek passes over the threshold, scalp prickling lightly as he does so, and stops in the grand foyer.</p>
  <p>When the door clicks shut behind him, he feels sealed in, as though he has entered his own tomb.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>
    <em> <strong>Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Can you guess what will happen next? ;)</strong> </em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Connecticut Princess, Discipline, and the Pas de Trois</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek and Mark finds an unconventional way to heal the rift between them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p>
  <b>8</b>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Connecticut Princess, Discipline, and the Pas de Trois</strong>
  </p>
  <hr/>
  <p>They speak French to each other while Derek sits there, feeling left out and increasingly uncomfortable. Like a helpless bird being watched by a pair of cats. Their feline smiles makes his skin crawl.</p>
  <p>He wants to shout at them, to tell them to stop talking about him like he’s not even here — because he is certain they are — and to take him back home.</p>
  <p>He cannot fathom why Mark would drag him out of bed in the middle of the night and up to a strange house in Connecticut to be mocked. Except that maybe he suspects Mark simply wants to get back at him for their fight on Friday.</p>
  <p>Derek’s anger begins to build towards courage; he thinks about just getting up and leaving, walking back down the hill to his own home, his own bed. But that’s miles and miles away — he can’t possibly walk all the way back to Jericho and plus, he has no money to catch a cab, too.</p>
  <p>But just as he plants his feet on Addison’s plush carpet, the words<em> ‘ménage à trois’ </em>trips from Addison’s lovely lips.</p>
  <p>He might not know French but he does know what that means.</p>
  <p>Derek’s head jerks up, his eyes seeking Mark’s.</p>
  <p>
    <em>What are you two planning?</em>
  </p>
  <p>Mark simply stares coolly back, a serene smile playing about his mouth. He gives no hints, no reassurances, nothing behind that smile.</p>
  <p>“I said,” Addison purrs, “How would you feel about a <em>ménage à trois</em>?”</p>
  <p>“Uh,” Derek stammers, “I don’t know ... I mean … I —”</p>
  <p>Addison chuckles a little, lays a slender hand on Mark’s shoulder. “You’re right, Mark, he <em>is</em> cute,” Mark, in turn, reaches forward and strokes Derek’s arm. “I think it will be good for you,” he says. “Good for us.”</p>
  <p>Derek blanches, then blushes. “I’ve never, um ...”</p>
  <p>
    <em>Done it with a girl before.</em>
  </p>
  <p>He almost did with Meredith before she left. He half did it, he suppose.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Does almost-done-it count?</em>
  </p>
  <p>Addison puts a graceful finger to her lips and Derek has to shut up, swallowing, because even that simple gesture is so undeniably sexy. “Don’t worry,” she says, eyes twinkling with mischief, “We’ll be gentle.”</p>
  <p>Mark squeezes Derek’s shoulders. “I’ll be here with you, Derek.”</p>
  <p>Nodding, “What about your parents?” he addresses Addison directly this time.</p>
  <p>“What about them?”</p>
  <p>“Won’t they ...”</p>
  <p>
    <em>Hear us?</em>
  </p>
  <p>“You worry too much, Derek.” Mark says, caressing his cheek.</p>
  <p>“They won’t suspect a thing. It’s a big house, Derek Shepherd.”</p>
  <p>It is indeed.</p>
  <p>Derek looks back and forth between Addison and Mark, and nods a little again, settling his gaze on Mark. “What do I do?”</p>
  <p>“Come here,” Mark says.</p>
  <p>Derek bites at his lower lip nervously, but he does as he‘s asked and slowly scoots across until he is within arm’s reach of his best friend. As soon as he’s close enough, Mark reaches out and grabs him, yanking him forward by the waist and pulling him flush to his side. He fists a hand through Derek’s curls and pulls him backwards, so Derek’s back is lying across his thighs.</p>
  <p>Derek, too shocked and stunned to even react, let alone make a sound, but his heart pounds nonetheless.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Mark wouldn’t hit him, would he?</em>
  </p>
  <p>“You’re words hurt me, Derek,” Mark says, looking over Derek.</p>
  <p>Derek scowls at him now — <em>why is he even bringing this up? </em>— and tries to struggle from the humiliating posture, but Mark’s fist is fastened tightly in his hair. “You told me you were fucking someone else.” he says, allowing the anger he feels to colour his voice, gesturing towards Addison, who’s watching them as though a performance, enthralled.</p>
  <p>“Do you think <em>I</em> belong to you?” Mark is saying, his voice a gruff purr that has Derek’s heart racing.</p>
  <p>“I think you want me to belong to you but not the other way round,” Derek accuses, not caring that he sounds like a child, saddened by his neglect. “I wanted to spend time with you but you wanted <em>her</em> instead.”</p>
  <p>Mark pulls, lifting Derek up and over so they are eye level and Derek’s sitting in Mark’s lap. “You were angry because your plans didn’t go as you had hoped.”</p>
  <p>Derek is no longer struggling against him, but pressing, pushing himself forward into Mark’s grip. “I’m not sorry,” Derek seethes, surprised by the breathlessness already claiming his voice. He can feel Mark stiff beneath him, and he rolls against that swelling spot, his voice morphing into helpless pants as Mark tugs at his hair and bend down to bite his exposed throat.</p>
  <p>“I will teach you to be sorry,” Mark whispers, sharp teeth scraping against his sensitive skin.</p>
  <p>Derek still tries and fails to rub against Mark, only to find his hands are grabbed and his hips restrained.</p>
  <p>With nimble fingers, Mark attempts to free Derek of his pants. But then, his own fingers move with his of their own accord to unbuckle his pants and unzip his fly. Rational thought has altogether deserted him, his trousers hits Addison’s carpet with a soft thud and he positions himself at Mark’s side, obvious erection showing through his white cotton briefs.</p>
  <p>Once he is pants free, Mark pulls him to his knees next to him and drags him over his knee, so his torso is dripping his lap.</p>
  <p>“What are —“ Derek stammers and Mark shushes him.</p>
  <p>“Do you think you should be punished?” Mark asks.</p>
  <p>“No,” he says in a breathy yelp.</p>
  <p>“Are you sure about that?” Mark says, teasing lilt in his voice. He can feel his nails dig in underneath the waistband of his briefs, scratching against his skin. Slowly, he peels back the cotton, exposing his naked bottom to the air.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Is Mark going to do what he thinks he’s going to do? Spank him?</em>
  </p>
  <p>It both arouses and embarrasses him; it’s a weird feeling to be wanting this and not as well. And still, he’s vaguely aware of Addison, who’s now scooted closer towards them, her eyes planting on his and he stares back at her.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Does he do this to you too?</em>
  </p>
  <p>“I will swat you until you apologise, beg for my forgive.” Mark begins to run his palm lightly over the cheeks of his ass, sweet and gentle, torturing him with anticipation. “And how many swats do you think you deserve?”</p>
  <p>He do not know.</p>
  <p>“Ten,” he says, arching up shamelessly to meet his touch.</p>
  <p>“Ten is a little boy’s punishment. I think I should make it twenty.”</p>
  <p>Before he can react to his punishment, Mark’s hand lands squarely on his right cheek with a resounding smack. <em>Hard</em>.</p>
  <p>“One,” he gasps.</p>
  <p>“Okay. Yeah, you keep count for me. If you forget, we will have to start all over again.”</p>
  <p><em>Two</em>, <em>three</em>, <em>four</em> blows land on his ass in quick succession. They sting. There is such force in it and it is clear to him that Mark is holding nothing back. He slows down, drawing it out, each meeting of skin on skin a slap and a caress at once. Derek is so hard his erection is becoming painful and he can feel a damp spot forming on the front of his briefs. He knows without being told that he will find no release, and that perhaps is his true punishment.</p>
  <p>When the <em>sixth</em> hit lands on fresh skin, Derek keens loudly in the back of his throat, shifting desperately against Mark’s lap.</p>
  <p>He spanks him with increasing force, deliberately causing his blows to land against the skin that is already angry and red.</p>
  <p>The <em>twelfth</em> blow is so hard he yelps, unable to control himself, banging his leg against Addison’s glass ... thing of table.</p>
  <p>“Careful, Derek Shepherd.” she coos, caressing his cheek, “Try to restrain yourself and avoid spilling my gin and tonic.”</p>
  <p>All he can do is moan in response to her touch.</p>
  <p>At <em>thirteen</em>, he feels tears leaking out of his eyes, but he’s not crying. It’s not <em>tears</em> tears, it’s tears because it stings. Addison takes care his, wiping them away with a slim finger.</p>
  <p>Somewhere north of number <em>fifteen</em>, he counts with a whimper, biting his lip hard to keep him from begging for forgiveness.</p>
  <p>At the <em>seventeenth</em> swat, he really cries this time.</p>
  <p>After the <em>eighteenth</em>, he calls for his mother. He promises to be good.</p>
  <p>At the <em>twentieth</em> and final blow, he comes, grinding himself against Mark’s thigh in a mess of tears and sweat and cum.</p>
  <p>“Please. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mark.” he is openly sobbing now, tears staining his cheeks and gliding down his chin to pool beneath him on the carpet, “Please forgive me. I’m sorry.”</p>
  <p>He stays there, face still pressed against Mark’s lap, unable to move. Addison is silent next to him, but she combs gently through his sweat-streaked hair, comforting him in a way no one ever had. Mark’s hand is still on his ass, fingertips gently brushing over the hot and raised marks there.</p>
  <p>Mark places a guiding hand on Derek’s hip and he sees Addison passing him something in a little jar, before feeling a soothing, cool hand slide something slick down his cheeks and he hisses.</p>
  <p>Once Mark is done, Derek suddenly, he has the urge, is desperate to taste him. He nuzzles Mark’s lap, rubbing his cheek at the junction of his things, attempting to part his knees with his hands.</p>
  <p>His legs remain stubbornly closed. “You can stand up now, Derek. We’re finished.”</p>
  <p>“But ... I want to ... let me, please, I want to make up for how I hurt you,” he whimpers, reaching out to grip Mark’s shirt. “Please.”</p>
  <p>He leaves Addison’s side and goes to sit next to Mark. His ass is in flames, “Please, Mark. I’m so sorry.”</p>
  <p>Finally, <em>finally</em> he sounds sincere, absolutely lovely with his flushed cheeks, runny nose and spit-wet lips. Mark could even see more tears forming along the bottom lashes of his red-rimmed eyes.</p>
  <p>Mark brushes his fine nose against Derek’s cheek, giving him a light but lingering kiss. “Undress me, then,” he whispers.</p>
  <p>Derek reaches for the buttons of Mark’s shirt with trembling fingers. He fumbles at his first attempt, hands shaking too much. Mark leans forward and kisses him again, flicks his tongue against Derek’s lower lip.</p>
  <p>“Beautiful,” he whispers against his mouth.</p>
  <p>Derek’s groin stirs up again, tightens in the sticky confines of his briefs. He tries to slow his fingers, one button at a time and he actually begins to unbutton Mark’s shirt. Mark kisses Derek’s cheek, licks the tear stains there away, then, dipping his head and kisses along his neck. Derek pants, eyes beginning to drift closed.</p>
  <p>“Keep going,” Mark encourages.</p>
  <p>Derek undoes the last few buttons, flings Mark’s shirt open. He runs his hands up Mark’s sides, the way he knows Mark likes, and slips them into the sleeves at the shoulder and draws the shirt down his arms, pulling it from behind his back and tossing it aside before staring defiantly into Addison’s eyes.</p>
  <p>Addison lounges, smiling lazily. “Oh, please, don’t stop on my account,” she says, winking at him.</p>
  <p>Mark nibbles Derek’s neck, and Derek shivers, reaches for the hem of Mark’s undershirt. Mark leans back, lets Derek pull the shirt up over his head and work it over his arms. He presents his chest and stomach for Derek, inviting his touch. Derek leans forward and licks the cleft of Mark’s chest as he reaches down, takes Mark’s belt buckle in his hands, tugging roughly. Mark gasps, leans further back as Derek’s tongue strays lower, his belly shivers as Derek’s tongue roves over his taut abdomen. He slides his legs forward, lies down on the floor under Derek as he thrusts his hips upward and Derek begins to unbuckle his belt. Mark groans when Derek bites his navel, feels his cock throb at Mark’s helpless whine.</p>
  <p>His hands work faster now, as though a marathon, unfasten, unbutton, unzip. He draws Mark’s trousers down past his insistent erection, down past hips and thighs and knees, calves and ankles and graceful bare feet. Then, he reached up to tug his underwear down the same path. There is no moment of pause — Derek kisses the insides of his thighs and pulls a hungry moan from him when he licks the underside of his cock.</p>
  <p>His work complete, Derek looks up at Addison.</p>
  <p>“Very good,” she says, her voice all velvety and sweet, clapping her hands. “Now come and undress me.”</p>
  <p>Derek gulps, leaves Mark idly stroking his bare cock as he crawls across the plush carpet to obey Addison’s command.</p>
  <p>It is infinitely simpler, infinitely more complicated to untie the sash that holds her dressing gown close, to let gravity do its work on the satin, to watch it slide down her creamy shoulders and puddle about her hips, revealing pert breasts with nipples pink as strawberry mousse. Derek cannot help letting his gaze travel downward, to the smooth plane of her stomach, to the neat thatch of hair that sits primly above naked sex.</p>
  <p>Addison’s silky legs rub together as she extends a foot and presses it against Derek’s flagging erection. “Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, cupping his cheek with one hand. She turns his head gently back and forth, inspecting. “I was unsure and first but Mark was right,” she says, “you are indeed very pretty.”</p>
  <p>“Uh ... thanks,” Derek stammers again.</p>
  <p>Addison smiles without showing any teeth. “You too should get undressed.”</p>
  <p>Derek begins to shuck out of his t-shirt, but her hand on his wrist stills his motions.</p>
  <p>“Slowly,” Addison instructs, “Let me look at you.”</p>
  <p>He slows, draws his shirt up over his head, ducks his face through, feels his curls spring against his face as he pulls his head out of the shirt. He lets his chest puff out a little as he tosses the shirt aside and steals a glance at Addison.</p>
  <p>She smiles prettily, still.</p>
  <p>Withdrawing her foot from his groin, she tips her chin up a little, expectant, commanding him to continue. He reaches down, hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, teases about for a moment, hips swinging left then, right before he pulls them down, bares himself to her approving gaze, feels his cock hardening further.</p>
  <p>“Lovely,” Addison says, showing a hint of pearly teeth in this smile. Her eyes settle somewhere over Derek’s shoulder. She inclines her head a few degrees in that direction.</p>
  <p>Derek follows her gaze to where Mark lies stretched out, watching them, working his cock. Derek flushes a deep scarlet and says to Mark, “I didn’t know you were …”</p>
  <p>“I love to watch,” Mark pants, gives a beatific smile. “You are so, so beautiful, Derek.” Mark rises to hands and knees, crawls to them, looking every bit the apex predator. He pauses to wrap himself around Derek from behind, press his erection into Derek’s back, reach around to stroke Derek’s cock. Derek surges in his hand, flops back against Mark’s chest, moaning.</p>
  <p>“Yeah,” Mark whispers into Derek’s ear, “very good, Derek.” He slows his strokes, kisses down Derek’s shoulder as he slips his hand away. “Do you want me to fuck you?”</p>
  <p>Derek gives an urgent nod.</p>
  <p>Addison produces a bottle of lubricant and a condom and hands them over to Mark. Mark prepares himself, then takes hold of Derek’s hips with slick hands and goosebumps erupts. “Come to me, Derek,” Mark instructs.</p>
  <p>Derek eases himself back, like the first they fucked, letting Mark press into him slowly, gasping as little rills of pleasure trickle through his body.</p>
  <p>“Oh, Derek.”</p>
  <p>Derek turns his face away even as a small groan rattles out of his diaphragm, but still, his belly feels warm. Mark lets Derek take control, lets Derek ride him at his own pace. He pulls gently at Derek’s shoulders, strokes down his spine, encouraging him to arch his back, to show more of his body for Addison’s enjoyment.</p>
  <p>Addison rises on her knees, her every motion fluid, and glides over to sit on the bed. Perched there, she looks every bit the goddess she is. Even if he is not ready to worship her yet, Derek does feel a sense of awe. She is gorgeous. He gazes at her with half-lidded eyes, watches as she parts her legs, dips a hand down and begins to touch. His cock throbs at the sight of her lips parting around a slow exhalation, her lashes fluttering, a warmth rising in her cheeks. He cannot tear his gaze away from her face, he cannot, somehow, regardless of the work of her hands and he growls.</p>
  <p>Mark grinds into him tight and push-pulls him again onto his cock. Derek bears down hard, and it feels like a punch, but it all feels so beautiful — he’s never seen a girl touch herself like that before.</p>
  <p>Mark’s breath tickles warm across his neck, his cheek. “Do you like what you see, Derek?” he asks, brushing his fingers up and down Derek’s tight erection. “I think you do.”</p>
  <p>“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes.”</p>
  <p>“Shall we join her?”</p>
  <p>Derek nods, curls bouncing. Mark pulls out of him slowly, removes and discards the condom, leading Derek over to the bed. Addison makes room for them as they climb up, she chuckles lightly and then leans her head back as Mark slides forward on his belly, between her legs, and slips forward his tongue to taste her. Derek watches her bask in the sensation, and then startles when her gaze suddenly pierces him.</p>
  <p>“Come and kiss me, Derek Shepherd,” she commands.</p>
  <p>He obeys, leaning forward to meet her mouth. The flavour of her lips is sharp and sweet, like Persephone’s pomegranate seeds. They kiss, their tongues colliding in perfect rhythm, her hand alights on his shoulder, follows the curve of his arm down, wandering to his thigh. She caresses inward and finds him and he gasps against her mouth while she shudders, sighing against his.</p>
  <p>Mark rises from between Addison’s legs and presses himself against Derek. “You want to?” Mark says and Derek looks between Addison and Mark uncertainly.</p>
  <p>
    <em>He don’t know if he’s any good.</em>
  </p>
  <p>“It’s okay.” she says, tugging him closer, “I don’t mind.” And she encourages him to move lower.</p>
  <p>When he finally gives in, his head sinking lower, in between her legs as Mark just had, his hands tighten, just a little on her, and he presses his tongue between her pink flesh, groaning loudly at the taste of her only to have it muffled, as his nose presses to her hipbone and his lip goes flush over her.</p>
  <p>Addison smells nice, delightful and sweet, soft and warming under his hands. Mark lets him go and pets, idly, up her smooth stomach, pushing Derek’s head down and rising to his knees so he can reach her lips.</p>
  <p>He cups her there, kisses her as she moans and shivers, Derek is trapped between them, Mark’s erection rutting into his back. He's sure it's not entirely comfortable for Derek, but his best friend makes no sound of complaint, and Addison’s breath hitches, her eyes flying open and staring, as he undoubtedly turns his attention to licking her open.</p>
  <p>Mark kisses her again, tasting her lip gloss and gin, and he shivers, pressing their foreheads together as Derek moans and Addison makes a soft, wanting sound, her body rolling to get Derek to suck harder, to work his fingers in. He does, ever-obedient, and Mark pulls back and tugs on Derek’s hair so he can watch two of Derek’s fingers sink into her, crooking up to make her moan again.</p>
  <p>Derek leans in when Mark slackens his grip, tongue licking broad and flat over her swollen clit, and Mark smiles, watching her thighs tense and tremble around Derek’s shoulders, watches her toes curl as Derek works her open.</p>
  <p>"Doesn’t she taste wonderful?" he purrs, petting down Derek’s flushed neck. Derek’s eyes are closed, lost in the taste of her, and he makes a frantic, soft noise, nodding once, but won't stop long enough to answer when he's getting what he wants.</p>
  <p>Derek moans again, loudly, a tremor running down his whole body as he whines, sucking her into his mouth with a loud, obscene sound. Mark kneels behind him again as Addison moans, pawing at Derek’s hair.</p>
  <p>"Put another finger in me, Derek Shepherd," she gasps, breathless and Derek obeys instantly, working a third finger inside her, and Addison’s lashes flutter, her eyes close, head tipping back as she sinks down on the bed.</p>
  <p>She's close, the flush on her face spreading down her neck in a lovely pink. Derek can feel it too, undoubtedly — his fingers make a wet sound as he moves them inside her, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks.</p>
  <p>Mark smiles, wide, pressing his teeth to his Derek’s neck as he slides a hand down, squeezing Derek where he's still hard and insistent. He's wet there, too, leaking and Mark cups him, lets him rut as Derek growls and twists his fingers.</p>
  <p>"God, Derek Shepherd," Addison breathes, and Mark echoes it, biting his neck as he whimpers, fucking forward into Mark’s palm and then back, against his erection.</p>
  <p>"Oh, that's it, <em>fuck</em>, just like that, just like <em>that</em> —“</p>
  <p>Her thighs tenses then, her stomach sinks in to bare the jut of her hipbones, and she bites her lower lip to stifle her harsh cry, gripping his hair as tightly as she can as her orgasm pulsed through her.</p>
  <p>Derek moans loudly, releasing her with another sucking sound. His breathing is heavy, hair plastered to his neck and temples from sweat — he looks beautiful, they both do, absolutely <em>perfect together </em>and Mark doesn’t like it, doesn’t like what he sees — doesn’t like the picture perfectness of it.</p>
  <p>Addison cups Derek’s head, body shivering as she tries to catch her breath. Her eyes, when they open, are dark and glazed with pleasure, and she lifts her head, smiling at Mark and Derek, and heaves another sigh.</p>
  <p>“Give him to me,” Mark whispers to Addison and she releases his head, stroking his cheek one last time and lets go.</p>
  <p>Derek moves to sink back into Mark’s arms, but Mark gently pushes him forward. “Hands and knees,” Mark instructs.</p>
  <p>Derek goes down on his hands and knees as Addison hands the lubricant and another condom to Mark. He arches with a low moan as Mark slips inside him again. His thighs and belly tighten, keeping his body taut against Mark’s thrusts. His eyes squeezes shut, then flutters open to find Addison stretched out before him, languid gaze locked on his, pleasuring herself again. He pants and whines as Mark reaches around and begins to work his cock.</p>
  <p>“Yeah,” Mark hisses, giving Derek a fierce squeeze and he whimpers. “Addison,” he invites, “if you would ...”</p>
  <p>Addison rolls toward the bedside table, pulls out another condom. Slowly, she tears open the packaging. She rests her chin in the crook of Derek’s neck and reaches forward underneath him to unroll the condom down the length of his shaft. Then, her back is to him and she too goes on all fours.</p>
  <p>Derek’s breath huffs out. “What?” he turns to Mark for confirmation.</p>
  <p>“Nice and slow,” Mark says, and Derek nods again, gasping as Mark coaxes him down, pushes at his hips to get that lovely arch, and brushes him against Addison’s wet entrance.</p>
  <p>Addison snakes her way under his arms and arches her back up against his chest. He lifts up a bit more, and she slides back until her bottom presses against his thighs. His cock rubs against the silky wetness between her legs, and he gasps.</p>
  <p>Mark’s thrusts becomes slow and shallow as Derek and Addison adjust to each other. Addison grasps Derek in her hand and guides him in, and he sinks into her with a breathy, pleading moan. Addison rocks back against him, drawing him in deeper. He loses himself in her, loses himself in between them both, caught on Mark’s cock at one end and in Addison’s cunt at the other. He gives himself up to them, lets them crush him together, lets himself be batted between them, tossed like a ship upon a stormy sea.</p>
  <p>He feels it then; a fluttering, a pulsing that grips and then releases his cock. The same clenching feel when his fingers were in her. Addison makes a heavenly sound, clamping down around him, convulsing, and then, Derek goes very tense, every still before he comes explosively into her.</p>
  <p>Addison rolls onto her back and opens her arms, catching Derek to her as he collapses. Mark follows, driving deep into Derek for his final, shuddering thrust, and then he topples over onto the bed next to them.</p>
  <p>Derek can almost feel Addison smiling as she strokes his hair, kissing his shoulder. Mark reaches over and joins, caressing Derek’s glimmering back. Derek lets himself be petted, enjoys it even. Their hands run over him, eventually finding their way to twining together on his shoulders. Addison shifts, and Derek shifts with her, until he is once again pressed between her and Mark. Mark’s and Addison’s arms drape over him. Their legs tangle with his.</p>
  <p>Completely ensnared, Derek drifts off into a deep sleep.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>A tinkling little sound snaps Derek out of his slumber. Addison reaches over lazily and retrieves her alarm clock from the bedside table, turns it off.</p>
  <p>Derek sits bolt upright. “Oh, shit,” he hisses, “What time is it?”</p>
  <p>Addison gives a feline yawn and stretch. “It’s four,” she answers, “You have plenty of time to get home.”</p>
  <p>Derek rubs at his eyes. He reaches over to shake Mark’s shoulder, but his hand flails through empty air. He turns to find Mark already up and putting his clothes back on. “This has been an amazing evening, Addison,” he says, zipping up his motorcycle jacket.</p>
  <p>“Yes, it has.” she rolls over onto her back, turns her exquisite face to Derek. “Was it amazing for you, too, Derek Shepherd?” she asks.</p>
  <p>Derek finds that words will not come to him right now.</p>
  <p>He nods.</p>
  <p>Addison gives a smile that shows no teeth. “That’s good,” she says. Her eyes flit to Mark, then. “You’ll see <em>our</em> Derek home safely, won’t you?”</p>
  <p>Mark nods. “Of course. Let’s go, Derek.”</p>
  <p>Derek stumbles from the bed, begins to gather and don his clothes. He smooths his hair, for some odd reason, then, he mumbles, “Thanks. ‘Bye,” to Addison.</p>
  <p>“Goodbye, Derek Shepherd.” she closes the gap between them, pressing their lips together firmly, sweetly — kiss as light as feathers. His breath hitches slightly, hands coming up to gently cup her cheeks.</p>
  <p>With that, she pulls away and swipes a thumb across his lips.</p>
  <p>Blinking and swallowing hard, “Well ...” he starts, “I gotta go.” he then turns to Mark who looks entirely unpleased with him.</p>
  <p>Mark steps forward and takes his arm, gently steers him towards the bedroom door.</p>
  <p>“Oh, and Derek Shepherd?” Addison calls from the bed; Derek turns around. “You’ll come to my party next week.”</p>
  <p>Not an invitation. An order, no matter how softly made.</p>
  <p>Derek nods and slips out the door with Mark. They trundles down the stairs and back out into the night. He puts on his helmet on, takes his place on the bike, and wraps his arms around Mark.</p>
  <p>He thinks, <em>our Derek</em>.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>
    <em> <strong>Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silliness. Yeah, totally going to hell but Ehh, I enjoyed writing this. And of course, Addison and Mark speak French to each other. They’re pretentious like that. ;) Haha!</strong> </em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Bacchanalia,  Passive Aggressiva, and the Table Full of Drugs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek goes to a party at the Montgomery Mansion and gets to hear the truth.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <b>9</b>
</p><p>
  <strong>Bacchanalia,Passive Aggressiva, and the Table Full of Drugs</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Derek ambles up the long driveway to the Montgomery mansion, toying with his keys and smoothing his flyaway curls by turns. As he crests the hill where the lights of the house spill across the stones, he stops his nervous fidgeting and stares. The doors of the house stand open, a yawning mouth into a gilded underworld. He breathes in. Breathes out. Screws up his courage and enters.</p><p>A great table looms large in the foyer. Derek sidles up to it, curious.</p><p>On the table, there is a silver dish full of little white pills. Beside it is another dish filled with what look like postage stamps. Beyond both dishes is a silver tea service, paired incongruously with rank upon rank of little black sake cups. And everywhere, there is alcohol.</p><p>Bodies writhe and stutter, dart and mingle, rise and fall.</p><p>Mark and Addison sit at the center of the bacchanal. They perch atop a priceless table, holding hands and smiling down on the crowd like patron saints. Every now and again, Addison leans toward Mark to whisper something in his ear, and they share a prim, private laugh.</p><p>Derek slogs his way through the storm of bodies and stands before the table, a supplicant.</p><p>“Derek!” Mark calls cheerily, hopping down from the table. He offers his hand to Addison; she takes it and glides down to join him.</p><p>“So, you came after all,” Addison purrs.</p><p>Derek shrugs. “Yeah. Didn’t want to miss it.”</p><p>Addison and Mark exchange a bemused glance.</p><p>“Well,” Addison says, “did you stop by the table on the way in?”</p><p>“I ... I saw it,” Derek answers.</p><p>“And you didn’t partake?”</p><p>Derek hesitates. Shakes his head. “What, um. What is all that stuff?”</p><p>Addison’s eyes twinkle. “An experience,” she answers.</p><p>“What?” Derek asks, dumbfounded.</p><p>Addison takes his hand and leads him back through the human hurricane, to land at the table in the foyer again.</p><p>“What kind of experience do you desire tonight, Derek?” Addison asks.</p><p>“Uh,” Derek says. He walks down the length of the table, hesitant. At the far end, he spies a crystal decanter half-full of amber liquid. He picks it up, surprised at its weight, and turns to Addison with a raised brow.</p><p>“I see you’ve found the Scotch,” she says, a mischievous smile still playing at her lips. “Not an adventurer tonight?”</p><p>Mark glides up behind her. “Not tonight,” he answers for Derek.</p><p>Derek accepts a crystal glass of Scotch from Addison, looks to the table, then back at her. “What are you having?” he challenges.</p><p>Addison gives him a devilish grin. “A party.”</p><p>“That’s not —” Derek begins.</p><p>“That’s not important,” Mark shrugs, raises a glass of blood-dark wine toward Derek. Derek gives the glass a most careful touch with his own, and watches as Mark takes a graceful sip of his wine. Derek raises the crystal glass to his lips and quickly gulps down a mouthful of the amber liquid.</p><p>It tastes like a campfire on an autumn night. It burns his throat and settles warmly in his belly, opens up his nasal passages like a chimney for its smoky vapors. He coughs slightly, much to Addison’s amusement, and takes a much slower sip. It is rugged, yet somehow inviting. Like a well-lit cabin in a deep wilderness.</p><p>“What do you think?” Addison asks.</p><p>Derek nods. “I like it.”</p><p>“Then, you have excellent taste,” Addison smiles. She takes his hand again. “Come and join the party.”</p><hr/><p>Derek wanders through the tangled forest of bodies, head light with whiskey-vapor, marveling. The halls and rooms are full of people, some of whom he knows from school, all of them in their varying depravities. A knot of teenagers crawls upon a rug, squawking their fascination with its pattern. A blonde girl, lost in breathy giggles, sinks her naked body against a fur coat, stroking it with hands and cheeks and bare breasts. At her feet, a boy who looks like a football player licks the intricately carved leg of a fainting couch. Derek turns a corner, idly opens a door, and finds a writhing heap of people, all arms and legs, chests and stomachs and backs, copulating on top of a heavy antique pool table. His hurried steps take him away from the room and back to the hallway, where he bumps into Addison. He manages not to spill his drink. Barely.</p><p>As ever, she smiles. “They’re quite mad,” she chuckles, motioning towards what Derek would call ... an orgy.</p><p>“What …” Derek starts, shakes his head, “What are they on?”</p><p>Addison turns her head to look into a room where two boys kowtow before a massive statue of a stag. Then, she turns back to Derek. “They’re on whatever they’ve chosen to unlock the doors to their own insanity. They’re on whatever gives them the excuse to live a waking dream. To probe the depths of consciousness with utter abandon.”</p><p>Derek eyes her for a moment, his thoughts marshaling themselves through the fog in his head. “You never give a straight answer, do you?” he says and immediately regrets it.</p><p>But Addison merely chuckles. “Walk with me, Derek,” she purrs, turning.</p><p>Derek gulps another mouthful of the autumn-flavoured drink and follows.</p><p>The hallways seem to go on and on. Door after door, each hiding or revealing some Boschian tapestry of intoxicated abandon. Addison leads Derek through the labyrinth at a stately pace. Unsure what to do with his hands, Derek repeatedly lifts the glass to his lips and sips. The fog in his head thickens to smoke, bringing incongruous sensations — a lifting flight in the brain and a dragging stumble in the body. Yet he feels he could do nearly anything. He begins to understand the madness around him. Heat pounds in his cheeks, his chest, his belly. He opens and closes his mouth experimentally, finds he can barely feel his tongue and snorted out a small laugh.</p><p>Addison throws wide a French door and they step into the muggy night. Derek looks up to find the stars wheeling in the heavens. He shakes his head a little, but that makes them spin and dance even more. He parts his lips and tastes the air. It slips across his tongue, down his throat, turning the burn of alcohol from fire to ice. He shivers and looks over at Addison.</p><p>She stands on the lawn, peering up at the sky. In the moonlight, she fairly glows. A cold and distant sight, a reflection of the moon’s bright face. Derek’s breath stills, then quickens. Without his permission, his clumsy feet take him to where she stands. Without his leave, his mouth stammers out, “Addison? Do you, um …”</p><p>She turns her moon-bright face to him and says, “Did you know that people once believed that sleeping in moonlight would cause a person to go insane?” She turns back to the sky and murmurs, “Luna, the Latin word for moon. It’s where we get the word lunatic.”</p><p>“That’s …” Derek casts about for a word. “Interesting,” he mumbles, peers at her through his lashes. Shyness and Scotch slow his speech. “Do you think ... I mean ... when we …” He blows out a breath, “It was great. What we did.” Shifting on his feet, he says in a small voice, “I really liked it.”</p><p>Addison, enigmatic as a sphinx, cunning as a fox. “I know.”</p><p>Derek takes another sip of his drink, finds some courage at the bottom of the glass. “Do you think we could do it again?”</p><p>Addison’s eyes glitter in the darkness. She stares without saying anything. Derek becomes steadily more uncomfortable. Just when he feels he would do anything to escape her gaze, she tilts her head so that a pretty lock of red hair brushes her shoulder and says, “We need Mark, don’t we?”</p><p>Derek’s heart gives a hopeful little jump. “Yeah. Yeah, we should get Mark.”</p><p>Addison folds her arms loosely around herself. “I don’t think he would.”</p><p>Derek hesitates. “Why?”</p><p>Addison sighs. “He doesn’t need us. Either of us. It doesn’t matter how we feel about him, Derek, the bare, honest truth is that he doesn’t need us.”</p><p>Heat blooms in Derek’s chest, his face. He wants to strike back at those words, declare them false, but they burrow into his brain. A sound almost like a whimper rises in his throat.</p><p>“Poor Derek,” Addison sighs again. “Poor, dear Derek.” She takes a languid step closer to him. “I won’t say he’s using you. That would be unkind. And I think he genuinely enjoys you and me. But he needed us to be at peace, that’s all.”</p><p>Derek gulps in air, begins to search for a savage retort. But something she’s said nags at him. He considers. “Were you mad,” he asks, “when you found out about me?”</p><p>Another long pause from Addison. “No,” she says and does not elaborate.</p><p>Derek opens his mouth to say something, but stops breathing. He stares, attempting to formulate a thought, but the anger coming to a boil inside him forms a wall around his brain. Finally, he bursts out, “Bullshit! You ... you, you,” he shakes a finger at her, “you’re nothing but bullshit! You just ... you just …”</p><p>Addison tips her chin up. “Continue. Please.”</p><p>Derek throws his head back dramatically. “Come on! Seriously? You’re just gonna ... I can’t.” he turns away. “I can’t.”</p><p>Derek stalks back into the great house, looking for Mark. He finds a bottle of Scotch whiskey instead, and plunges back into the labyrinth.</p><hr/><p>He could say that he hates Mark but that would be a lie. Addison? He hates her. And for what? For spilling the truth?</p><p>Derek blinks up at the ceiling and slides deeper into the leather armchair. He can no longer feel his face, but for a prickling heat. His arms slump against the leather; his feet sit heavy on the floor, as if to anchor him in place as the room spins around him. Each time he blinks, the room begins a new revolution, but if he closes his eyes, it continues its whirling unseen.</p><p>“Derek?” Mark’s voice, velvet-soft.</p><p>Derek rolls his head slowly forward. Mark’s face seesaws into his field of vision. “Mark,” he slurs.</p><p>Mark reaches out a hand to touch Derek’s face, but Derek jerks his head away, and immediately wishes he hadn’t. A spike of pain accompanies the dizziness this time. He grimaces, braces his hands on the arms of the chair before hoisting himself to his feet and sways there. “I’m leaving,” he declares.</p><p>“Derek,” Mark says again. Derek staggers into him, falls into his arms. “You’re in no state to be going on your own,” Mark murmurs into Derek’s ear. “Let me take you home.”</p><p>Tears prickle in Derek’s eyes. "I can take myself home." He shoves Mark away and lurches for the door, stumbling down the hallway with Mark following at a sedate pace, his face unreadable.</p><hr/><p>Derek tumbles into a hedge and tries in vain to right himself. Mark hooks an arm around him and hauls him upright. Derek tries to push Mark off, to insist that he can walk on his own, but he begins to fall again. Instinct kicks in, and Derek clings to Mark.</p><p>“Derek,” Mark says patiently, “I’m going to help you. We don’t have much further to go, but you can’t do it on your own.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Derek slurs, pitching forward. Walking down the long hill from Addison’s house has been like riding a roller coaster; the sidewalk seems to wobble and jump beneath his feet, tilting him suddenly and making his head spin.</p><p>“Of course,” Mark agrees, knowing better than to argue with someone as disastrously drunk as Derek. He sways gracefully along with Derek’s shambling. “Derek,” he asks, “Is your mom home?”</p><p>“Duh,” Derek hiccups, "Where else would she be?"</p><p>“Then, we’d better take you to my place.”</p><p>“No. I wanna go home,” Derek states, “I don’t feel good.”</p><p>“I know,” Mark nods. “But you'll get into trouble if your mother see you like this.”</p><p>“Mmh,” Derek concedes, stumbling.</p><p>“We’re nearly to the car,” Mark assures him, “Give me your keys.”</p><p>Derek paws at his pockets, finally fishes the keys out, immediately drops them. Mark’s hand shoots out to catch them before they hit the pavement. The sudden motion jars Derek, and his legs almost go out from under him. Mark keeps hold of him, keeps him upright and readjusts. Once he has Derek relatively stable again, he says, “All right. Let’s get you to the car.”</p><hr/><p>“I’m sorry,” Derek groans into the toilet just before he begins vomiting again.</p><p>Mark rubs Derek’s back. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Derek,” he soothes.</p><p>Derek coughs up bile and spits before accepting a glass of water from Mark. He takes a sip. It aches in his stomach for a few seconds, then rushes back up. He doubles over, and Mark reaches over to sweep Derek’s hair away from his face. “Sorry,” Derek repeats once he’s finished.</p><p>Mark strokes his hair, offers the glass of water again. Derek sips, and this time it stays down. He slumps back from the toilet, falls against Mark’s chest.</p><p>Mark wraps his arms around Derek and cradles him. “You keep apologising,” he says. “You don’t need to.”</p><p>Derek sighs deeply. “I fucked up,” he slurs. “I’m too drunk.”</p><p>“You are very drunk,” Mark agrees, “but we were at a party. That’s kind of the idea, isn’t it?”</p><p>Derek’s head lolls back as he looks up at Mark. “You’re not drunk,” he observes.</p><p>Mark shrugs. “I didn't feel like it.” He strokes Derek’s hair, pushes the glass of water at him again. “Here,” he says, “drink all of this. Slowly.”</p><p>Derek sips at the water, eventually getting all of it down. Mark rescues the glass from his clumsy fingers before he can drop it. “Sleepy,” Derek slurs.</p><p>Mark takes Derek by the shoulders and sits him up, pausing for a moment to make sure Derek can remain semi-upright on his own, then gets up. He flushes the toilet, fills the water glass again, and hands it over to Derek. “One more glass,” he instructs.</p><p>Derek rubs a hand across the back of his neck, lets it flop into his lap. He takes the glass and drains it in a few gulps.</p><p>“Good,” Mark says. “Do you want to take a shower?”</p><p>Derek shakes his head, winces at the concussive headache beginning to creep in. “Just wanna go to bed.”</p><p>Mark nods, clasps Derek by the elbow and levers him to his feet. He slips his shoulder under Derek’s arm and guides him down the hall to the bedroom.</p><p>Derek flops into the bed with a groan. Mark sits down next to him and asks, “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Derek hiccups. “My stomach hurts,” he says. “My head hurts.”</p><p>Mark tucks a strand of hair behind Derek’s ear. “Are you still feeling sick?”</p><p>Derek gives a messy sigh that threatens to become a snore. “Mm-mm,” he answers.</p><p>Mark leans over and strokes Derek’s shoulder. “Derek,” he murmurs, “are you going to sleep in your clothes?”</p><p>Derek begins to struggle out of his jeans. He pushes Mark’s hands away when he tries to help. After a few minutes, he manages to extricate himself, and slips his legs beneath the blankets.</p><p>Mark takes Derek’s jeans and folds them neatly over a chair. He removes his own shirt and trousers and hangs them in the closet and then, slides into bed behind Derek. He pulls the blankets up over them both. He smooths Derek’s hair back and places a tender kiss on his neck, just below his ear. “Goodnight, Derek,” he whispers.</p><p>Derek gives a hitching little snore.</p><hr/><p>Derek wakes with a sour stomach and a slamming headache. He groans and rolls over, thankful that the curtains are shut and the room is relatively dark. Then, it strikes him — the memory that he is in Mark’s room, not his own.</p><p>“Shit,” he exclaims, jolting upright. The room spins. A rail spike of pain drives into his skull. His stomach bucks, dashes down the hall to the bathroom, barely making it in time to double over in front of the toilet.</p><p>Mark appears in the doorway just as he finishes throwing up. “Derek?”</p><p>“I gotta get home,” Derek says, frantic. “My mom —”</p><p>“I called last night,” Mark says.</p><p>“You what …?”</p><p>“I hope you don’t mind. Your mom was blowing up your phone. She knows you’re here, and she thinks you had a migraine last night. That explains why you’re not feeling well.”</p><p>Derek melts with relief, flushes the toilet. He goes to the sink, washes his hands, and rinses out his mouth.</p><p>“I’ll make you breakfast,” Mark offers.</p><p>Derek blanches. “I don’t know if I can eat anything.”</p><p>Mark gives a little shrug. “You may feel differently after a shower. And some coffee. Let me bring you a cup.”</p><p>“Oh ... okay,” Derek agrees.</p><p>“Cream and sugar?”</p><p>Derek shakes his head gingerly. “I think I want it black.”</p><p>Mark nods and disappears, returning shortly with a beautiful cup full of steaming black coffee, on a matching saucer.</p><p>Derek takes the cup and saucer with careful hands and breathes in the dark, bitter aroma of the coffee before taking a sip. The robust flavour banishes some of the sour taste from his mouth. The warmth of the liquid flows through him, easing some of the soreness of his stomach and diminishing his headache. He gulps the rest of the coffee down as quickly as he can without burning his mouth.</p><p>“More?” Mark asks.</p><p>Derek shakes his head. “Maybe in a minute. I’m gonna take a shower first.”</p><p>Mark nods, accepts the cup and saucer back from Derek and heads back toward the kitchen.</p><hr/><p>The smell of toasting bread greets Derek as he shuffles into the kitchen. His stomach gives a timid rumble. Mark looks up from cutting more slices from what is clearly a homemade loaf. He gestures toward the French press and the waiting cup next to it. “Please help yourself, if you would like some more coffee.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Derek pours himself a cup and leans against the counter.</p><p>Mark goes back to slicing the bread. “Your toast should be ready in a moment,” he says, gestures to a fruit bowl on the kitchen island. “And we have bananas as well. Very easy on digestion.”</p><p>Derek plucks a banana from the bowl, peels it. Takes a cautious bite. His stomach does not rebel. As he finishes his coffee and the banana, his toast pops up. Mark transfers the toast to a plate and hands it over. “What do you take on your toast?” Mark asks.</p><p>Derek lifts a slice to his mouth. “I think I’d better eat it plain.”</p><p>Mark nods, puts two more slices of bread into the toaster. “Wanna call your parents? Let them know you’ll be home soon?”</p><p>“Shit,” Derek says around a mouthful of toast, fumbling for his pocket. “Yeah. I should do that.” He retrieves his phone, sets his toast down on the plate, and calls, tells just enough truth to reinforce Mark’s earlier lie on his behalf.</p><p>Derek finishes up his toast and gulps down a third cup of coffee. He begins to feel somewhat human again.</p><p>Mark nibbles at his own slice of toast. “Would you like me to walk you home?” he asks.</p><p>Derek pauses, caught off-guard by the gallant offer. “Um,” he says, “Sure.”</p><p>Mark puts his half-eaten toast back on the plate, pulls a cloth napkin from a drawer and covers the plate. He sets it on the counter for later. “Let go?”</p><p>Derek sets his dishes on the counter next to the sink. “Okay.”</p><hr/><p>The daylight outside knifes through Derek’s head, making him feel miserable all over again. Thankfully, the walk to his home is fairly short. He opens the front door, steps through with Mark.</p><p>His mother appears on the upstairs landing, followed soon by his little sister. “Hey, sweetie,” his mother says, starting down the stairs.</p><p>“Hey,” Derek answers.</p><p>“Mom said you've got a migraine,” Lizzie starts, crossing her arms over her chest, "are you sure you weren't at a party?"</p><p>Derek’s heart stops for a second and looks at his sister with a death stare. Ugh, he could just strangle her.</p><p>"Is it true?" His mother frowns. “Derek, were you at a party? Were you drunk? Is that it?”</p><p>Derek’s mouth hangs open in the face of this barrage of questions and looks to Mark.</p><p>Mark steps in to rescue him. “It was my fault, mom,” he answers, “I took Derek to a party. We shouldn't have gone.”</p><p>"No. You shouldn't have."</p><p>Mark nods once, in deference. “I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."</p><p>Carolyn puts a hand on Mark's shoulder. “I'm very disappointed in both of you,” she says. “I think you should go, Mark”</p><p>Mark nods. “I’ll say goodbye, then.” he says, steps across the threshold.</p><p>Derek waves and shuts the door.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. A Storm, Questions, and the Ginger Seltzer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek and Mark have a conversation about their current status.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine young Patrick Dempsey and Eric Dane.<br/>Enjoy.<br/>* Mature Content Below. Viewer Discretion Advised *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <br/>
  <em>a little visual reference</em>
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  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>Derek and Mark : A New Beginning</strong>
    </em>
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</p><p>
  <b>10</b>
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  <strong>A Storm, Questions, and the Ginger Seltzer</strong>
</p><hr/><p><br/>Derek's hangover has mostly passed. His mother had grounded him for the most part but she's hardly home, so it makes little difference to him. Though he did hit Lizzie for tattling on Mark and him, which made her cry and she hasn't talked to him since.</p><p>He doesn't care. She's so annoying.</p><p>His feet takes him to Mark's without his head’s full attention and intention — it is preoccupied with the shift in the weather evident now that he has left the house. The darkening sky seems to have sucked the air away, leaving everything still and silent. The oppressive heat still blankets the neighbourhood, but there is a certain expectant quality to it, as though it’s gathering itself for something. Derek scents the air, finding a faint, crisp tang there. His feet hurry towards Mark's house.</p><p>Mark appears after a few sharp knocks, and ushers Derek in. He takes him to a seat at the dining room table. “How are you feeling?” he inquires.</p><p>“Uh. Better, I guess,” Derek answers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Still kinda ... off.”</p><p>Mark nods. “I thought your mom wouldn't want you to come over anymore. She knows you're here?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"She hates me, doesn't she? Everyone does, in the end." Mark says, head hanging.</p><p>"No. She doesn't. She loves you. She's just, you know, being a mom and all."</p><p>Mark stares at him and Derek stares back; the answer in between them both.</p><p>
  <em>How would I know? My parents are hardly home.</em>
</p><p>Clearing his throat, Mark is first to break the silence, "Want a drink?”</p><p>“As long as there's no alcohol in it.”</p><p>“No alcohol,” Mark promises, gliding into the kitchen and returning with a tray bearing a pitcher of lemonade, a small decanter of tawny liquid, and a glass bottle of seltzer water. This, he places in the centre of the table, then turns to the bar cart and retrieves two glasses.</p><p>“What’s in the, uh,” Derek nods his head towards the decanter. Mark follows his gaze.</p><p>“It's ginger syrup,” he says. “Good for stomach troubles.” He lays his fingertips on the top of the seltzer bottle. “It's my mom's hangover cure.” He lifts the pitcher of lemonade and gives derek a roguish smile. “We used to drink this in summers all the time. Of course, I didn't know she was actually hangover at the time.”</p><p>Mark pours lemonade into a glass, stirs in a touch of ginger syrup, and adds ice-cold seltzer water. He passes it to Derek, then makes a glass for himself. Derek takes a sip of his drink. The heat of the ginger and the bite of the tart lemonade combine to give the libation a medicinal quality that is not unpleasant.</p><p>Outside, thunder rumbles low in the sky. Derek looks up at a window, sees the day darkening further. “There’s a storm coming,” he murmurs.</p><p>Mark follows his gaze. “Yup.” He sips at his drink and takes a seat across from Derek. “I like storms. They remind me of the savagery of nature.”</p><p>“Sailing in a storm,” Derek says. “It’s like that.”</p><p>Mark nods. “I can imagine. Being on the sea, far enough from shore that all you can see around you is the vast emptiness and you're just ... invisible.”</p><p>Derek peeks at Mark, finds Derek's eyes fixed on his own, looking like those of a starving man at a feast. A little shiver runs down his neck, his back. “Sounds like you kinda want it to happen to you,” he says.</p><p>Mark shrugs, and his face drops back into its usual look of placid enigma.</p><p>Eager to change the subject, Derek comes up with, “Thanks for, you know ... taking care of me.”</p><p>“Of course, man,” Mark says. Then, after a few beats of silence, “That was quite a party.”</p><p>Derek snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” Half-hazed recollections, images of maddened bodies in various states of undress, skirl incomprehensibly through his mind. A thought occurs to him. “What was all that stuff on the table?”</p><p>Mark leans back comfortably. “Ah. So you do have some memory of the night.”</p><p>“Yeah, I …” Derek comes to the end of his capacity for an answer and merely shrugs.</p><p>Mark answers, “Ecstasy, LSD, mushroom tea.” He takes a sip of his drink. “There was also cocaine available, on request.”</p><p>Derek’s brows shoot up. “I ... wh ... what?” he stammers.</p><p>Mark’s eyes flick up over the rim of his glass, his gaze briefly touching derek’s. “Like I said, that was quite a party.”</p><p>Derek turns his glass around and around in his hands. “Did you ... did you do any of that?”</p><p>Mark shakes his head. “You may or may not remember what I said last night about overindulging.”</p><p>Derek gives a small nod. “Yeah. You don’t do it.”</p><p>Mark leans forward, folds his arms on the table. “What else do you remember?”</p><p>Derek scrubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and thinks. He shakes his head. “Not much. I think ... I think I talked to Addison.”</p><p>Mark remains impassive, but Derek can tell his interest is piqued. “Oh?” is all he says.</p><p>“Yeah,” Derek goes on, squinting. “I think maybe ... we argued? About something?”</p><p>Mark takes a sip from his glass without taking his eyes off Derek.</p><p>Derek digs deeper into hazy memories, scrunches up his face in concentration. “I think we argued …” he looks up at Mark, “about you.”</p><p>Mark takes a longer drink, then sets down his glass, swallowing. “I can’t say that I’m not surprised.”</p><p>A jag of annoyance stabs at Derek's chest. “Yeah?” he challenges.</p><p>Mark seems to ignore his tone. “Feelings can become complicated when a person has a new lover,” he explains, “Especially when the old lover is still involved. And Addison,” he tilts his head a bit, smiles a bit. Derek scowls. He doesn't like the way he says her name. “Addison likes to play with her food, I think.”</p><p>Derek's head rocks back, his face a mask of disgust. “I’m not - I’m not food,” he spits, “I’m ... I’m a person.”</p><p>Mark reaches across the table for Derek's hand, but Derek snatches it away. Mark leaves his hand on the table, relaxed, as though he meant to simply rest it there all along. “I know that, Derek,” he says.</p><p>Derek's eyes narrow. Despite the nervous pounding of his pulse in his throat, he manages to ease out, “... Do you?”</p><p>Mark leans back in his chair. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Derek licks his lips. “I think ... I mean ... are you using me?”</p><p>Mark’s face relaxes, as though he finds Derek's half-accusation pleasant. “Using you for what?”</p><p>Derek opens his mouth, but finds his throat blocked and his mind blank. “For …” he searches, grasps and comes up with, “For sex.”</p><p>Mark picks up his glass again. “No,” he says simply.</p><p>“Well then,” Derek stammers, baffled, “what ... what is this? What we’re doing? Why are you doing it?”</p><p>“Derek,” Mark gives a wide, genuine smile, “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”</p><p>Derek blushes despite himself, hearkening back to that sunny afternoon, to Mark’s mouth, wine-sweet, on his. “Yeah.”</p><p>Mark’s cunning eyes, dark as the storm outside. “And do you remember what we did after?”</p><p>The blush creeps down Derek's neck, warming his chest and belly and groin. “Yeah.”</p><p>Mark sips his drink and sets the glass down gently. “And what did I say to you that day, about sexuality?”</p><p>Derek rubs the back of his neck. “That, um ... that it’s complicated, I guess.”</p><p>Mark nods. “And what did I say about us?”</p><p>Derek looks up to meet those blue eyes. “That ... that it’s just you and me. It’s just us.”</p><p>Mark gives him a small smile. “That's right,” he reaches for Derek's hand again; this time Derek does not pull away. “This is us. We enjoy one another.”</p><p>“Is that it?” Derek frowns. “We just ... I mean, you make it sound like we’re both using each other.”</p><p>Mark shakes his head, emphatic. “Derek. It's more than you’re making it out to be.” He squeezes Derek’s hand, strokes it, looks deeply into Derek's eyes. “When we're together, it's me and you,” he says. “We bask in one another. We're found with each other.”</p><p>Derek's breath quickens. He tries to ignore it and licks his lips. He wants to be angry, but he can’t muster the feeling. Not when Mark’s eyes hold his heart hostage.</p><p>Mark slides from his seat, still clasping Derek's hand, and gets on his knees before Derek. “We love each other’s company,” he says, his voice growing husky. “We make one another crazy. And yes,” he lifts Derek's hand to his lips and kisses it with courtly grace, “we enjoy each other.” His eyes twinkles. “I really enjoy you, Derek.” His gaze grows sharp again. “Do you enjoy me?”</p><p>Derek's pulse beats in his veins like a bird against a cage. “Yes,” he whispers.</p><p>Mark lifts Derek's hand to his lips again, and takes one of Derek's fingers into his mouth. Derek's pulse drops straight into his groin, bringing him hard in seconds. He takes in a sharp breath as Mark’s tongue darts and plays against his finger, suggesting, promising. Mark’s other hand slides to Derek's crotch, caresses his erection. Derek's head slumps back even as his free hand becomes frantic, fumbling at buttons and zipper and fabric within. He draws his cock out, spreads his legs wider, relinquishes himself to Mark’s grip.</p><p>Mark’s mouth finds its way from Derek's finger to his cock. Derek lets out a soft little moan and grips the arms of the chair as Mark sucks and licks. His eyes flutter as a feeling of pressure builds inside him, becoming more and more urgent. He breathes out another moan, but far from relieving the pressure, it heightens it. He pants against it, brings his head forward, looks down at Mark’s head bobbing on his cock. The sight sends a wild cry spiraling out of him, and Mark bobs faster. The pressure builds until Derek feels he might burst, and he comes with a suddenness that makes him gasp in surprise.</p><p>Derek's head lolls back. His arms drop limp at his sides. He sits, trembling, his breath slowing over time from a mad rush to a sleepy sigh. His eyes drift open at the feeling of something soft and damp stroking at his cock. He looks down and finds Mark wiping him gently with a small towel.</p><p>“You ... you don’t have to…” Derek starts.</p><p>Mark smiles up at him for a moment, then returns to his work. “I want to,” he says.</p><p>“Oh. Okay,” Derek mumbles.</p><p>Mark finishes wiping Derek down, folds the towel neatly and disappears to drop it into a hamper. Derek stuffs himself back into his boxers, zips and buttons his shorts, and looks up just as Mark returns to the dining room.</p><p>“Did you enjoy that, Derek?” he asks.</p><p>Derek nods.</p><p>Mark stalks to Derek's side, leans down, cups his chin in a slender hand, and lays a soft kiss on Derek's lips. “I enjoyed it too,” he says and straightens, extending a hand to Derek and pulls him to his feet. “If you'd like,” he says, voice impassive but predator eyes alight, “we could go upstairs and enjoy each other some more.”</p><p>Derek nods again.</p><p>Mark smiles. “Then come with me,” he instructs.</p><p>Derek obeys.</p>
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